The Collector
by SalchanTheWitch
Summary: When John is captured by a tyrannical being known as The Collector, it’s up to Sam and Dean to rescue their father before he becomes a permanent living trophy. Dean is 21, Sam is 17.
1. Teaser

**The Collector**

**Synopsis**: When John is captured by a tyrannical being known as The Collector, it's up to Sam and Dean to rescue their father before he becomes a permanent trophy. Dean is 21, Sam is 17.

_**Teaser:**_

Dean tensed and stood at the ready as he watched the massive iron door before him slowly slide upward and open. He swallowed deep as he heard a thunderous roar come from the other side and knew that whatever was behind that door could not be good. He glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon, his eyes falling on a particularly large white bat-like staff. As he picked it up, he realized it was a bone. A human leg bone.

Swallowing again, he dared a look back to the door which was now nearly open to the top.

That's when he saw it.

It was ginormous. Had to be at least 20 feet high and 10 feet wide. Solid, massive, hairy, talons like giant sickles, in all ways grotesque. And it looked mean. Very mean.

_Somebody has definitely seen Return of the Jedi one too many times_, Dean thought as he pitched his eyes upward to behold the face of the …troll?…before him. He caught sight of the two black, beady eyes staring down (okay, way down) at him but just couldn't take his eyes off the creature's enormous jowl filled with oh so very many large, sharp teeth. _Oh, jeez, I think its actually smiling at me_. _Where the hell's Luke Skywalker when you need him?_

Dean's thoughts drifted worriedly to Sam, always Luke to his Han. Dean had no idea what had happened to his brother after losing sight of him by the river. One minute they were hot on their father's trail in the woods, the next Dean found himself falling into a dirt chute underground, coming to a jarring stop at the bottom – the large round chamber in which he now found himself, apparently about to do battle with the monstrous creature before him and having no clue how the pathetic human club he held was going to get him through this.

_Options, options, I need options_ Dean chanted in his head. _David, he took Goliath down with a stone._ Looking at the creature's head, which looked to be made of solid rock, he didn't think that would work. _Plan B. Okay, Return of the Jedi, Luke used the door to crush the beast._ Dean looked to the chamber behind the troll and didn't count out the possibility. As he contemplated a Plan C, the creature advanced on him. By instinct Dean backed up until his back hit the wall. Suddenly he couldn't think of anything but the enormous claw reaching for him.

_Well, this sucks,_ Dean chuckled at what could quite possibly be his last thought in life.

Suddenly the creature reared its head back and cried out in what Dean would swear was pain. As he looked around, he caught glimpse of a figure standing behind it with something in its hands. _I'd know that figure anywhere. Sam!_ Dean's mind screamed.

Sure enough, Sam had come up behind the creature and stabbed it in the leg with what appeared to be a large sword.

"Dean, get out of there!"

The moment Dean heard Sam shout his name, Dean was on the move, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to run beneath the creature to his brother's side. Sam handed Dean a second sword and both men braced themselves as the now seriously pissed off creature turned to face them.

"What the hell took you so long, Sundance?" Dean asked with a laugh. He couldn't help it. The scene before them was beyond absurd.

"Traffic was a bitch, Butch," Sam replied, adding his own chuckle. They'd been in some crap situations before but this was just plain ridiculous.

With a small nod to each other, they readied themselves against the beast. "On three?" Dean asked, sword pitched upward. Sam, his own sword in hand, complied.

"One, two…"


	2. A New Target

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Winchesters but boy, would I like to...**

**Author's note: Hello all! So my new story is off and running. I will be taking some slight liberties withing this tale: Dean and Sam will learn vampires exist earlier than in the show, my witches will have tangible powers (like Charmed, to some extent), though being Wiccan myself I intend to stay true to the realities/tricks of the trade/beliefs of my kind, etc., but as always I welcome your comments and reviews. Enjoy and Blessed Be!**

**Chapter One**

It had feasted well that night. The hiking party had been easy prey despite their greater number, the humans' fear paralyzing them against the sudden and fierce attack from the shadows.

The Wendigo had taken down the two strongest males first, the third making a valiant but failed attempt to protect the two smaller females. After disabling the third male and one of the females with swift, brutal swipes of its claws, the Wendigo gave chase after the remaining female who had taken off into the woods leaving terrified screams in her wake. The chase was brief, though, and the creature added the fifth human to its cache.

Now, hours later, having devoured its fill for the night, the Wendigo strung up the other meat in its lair to be savored over the next few weeks before settling in for the long winter.

Suddenly the creature felt something sharp penetrate its neck, causing sudden numbness throughout its body. Vision blurring over, it started lashing out with its claws, hoping to make contact with the enemy that had dared to enter its home and attack it. As consciousness seeped away, the Wendigo looked up into the eyes of its foe, another large, male human. Only this one showed no fear, no shock. This one was a conqueror, able and well-prepared to overtake his prey. The Wendigo felt a thick netting fall over its prone form as unconsciousness took over at last.

"Fitzpatrick here," the man reported into a small walkie-talkie. "Target Whiskey 123-13 apprehended. Setting off for rendezvous point for estimated arrival at 21:13, over."

"Confirmed. We'll be waiting. Over and out." the voice on the other end responded.

Will Fitzpatrick placed the walkie-talkie into his jacket pocket, slung the tranquilizer air-rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the end of the Wendigo-filled net in his hands, dragging the beast from its lair. As he left, he glanced over at three hikers – a boy and two girls – hanging from the rafters in the abandoned shaft. He had found the remains of what he believed to be two young men in the corner, and while one of the girls hanging was clearly dead, he noticed the other two were still alive but deeply unconscious.

Or so he thought.

"Please…" Will heard the girl cry out to him in a pained, barely-there plea. "Please help me."

"Sorry, sister," Will said without any resonance of emotion. "Not what I came for." And with that he turned and left, the girl's sobs echoing throughout the shaft behind him.

SNSNSN

Seventeen-year-old Sam Winchester sat at the desk in the motel room staring at the catalog before him. The cover featured a group of happy, bright-smiled teens sitting on the grass in front of a large, impressive-looking building on a bright sunshiny day. Across the top in large letters, a single word: Stanford.

Sam had flipped through the immense catalog a dozen times since picking it up at the college fair his high school had hosted that week. He had grabbed several others as well, but one by one had discarded them in favor of the Stanford one, which offered more and more enticements to him with each reread. Stanford had one of the most impressive pre-law programs in the country, not to mention an unlimited curriculum of interesting subjects, a slew of multi-cultural activities, a bustling, vibrant college town (Palo Alto) and, most of all, scholarship opportunities that were well within his grasp. Sam hadn't struggled to maintain his grade point average and studied furiously for the SAT's for nothing. Certainly not to gain his father's approval.

He knew John Winchester couldn't care less about his academic achievements, just so long as he finished high school. And even that accomplishment the eldest Winchester was making nearly impossible, what with all the moving around they did. Dean had managed to scrape by and graduate, but schooling had never been a priority in his older brother's life. Hell, Sam was certain Dean would have dropped out in favor of hunting years ago, but John had insisted on both boys earning their diplomas. Sam believed it was for his mother's sake. He knew his father still stayed fiercely loyal to her, desperate to make her proud and show her he was trying his best to be a good father. Their sons completing high school was one solid way of honoring her memory.

So Dean graduated, yes, but with no celebration, no fanfare. They hadn't even been present for Dean to collect his diploma in person. They were too busy hunting down a poltergeist terrorizing a family three states over. After the job, they had returned long enough for Dean to pick up the document before setting out for the next hunt. It was downright depressing, and Sam braced himself for the same treatment when his own graduation day arrived.

But Sam Winchester was looking beyond that. He was looking to college, to a future away from hunting. And he was well-aware of the hellstorm that awaited him when the time came to tell his family his plans. Fortunately, he had a little time to come up with just the right tactic of confrontation.

Sam heard his father swear harshly from the next room and, quickly hiding the catalog in his notebook, went to see what had his father so upset. Entering the adjacent motel room, Sam saw Dean sitting on one of the beds watching his father pace the room, phone in hand, hair running tensely through his hair. Sam mouthed silently to Dean to ask what was happening and Dean shrugged back and waved him over, to which Sam complied, barely getting out of John's way.

John hung up the phone and barely kept himself from throwing it into the wall.

"What is it Dad?" Dean asked, hoping this wouldn't be one of his father's infamous need-to-know-but you-don't-need-to-so-don't-ask moments.

"I have no idea," John said, his frustration evident. "That's the fourth hunt I've had lined up that's turned into a bust."

"Call me crazy, but isn't that a good thing?" Sam asked matter-of-factly. Peripherally he saw Dean close his eyes, a clear indication his brother believed that was so the wrong thing for Sam to say considering the state John was in right now. Dean had been witness to far too many escalating arguments between his father and brother as of late and winced every time Sam asked a question regarding a hunt, knowing it would most likely include a conflicting opinion.

"No, Sam, it's not," John said angrily, glaring at his youngest unapologetically. John was borderline obsessed with ridding the world of as much evil as possible, and for four consecutive hunts to just disappear was unacceptable. It meant he couldn't do his job. And John needed to do his job.

"What happened this time?" Dean asked, wanting to know more and hoping to diffuse the impending debate before it started.

"Same as the last time," John said, plopping down on the other bed with a sigh. "Got a tip about a hunt, people hurt or killed, but then nothing. Like the threat just…vanished."

Sam still couldn't understand why this was bad news. If the evil was gone, that was good. Who cared how it was gone?

"At least we didn't move for nothing this time," Sam said mostly to himself but loud enough to be heard.

"Excuse me?" John said, once again glaring at Sam. Dean suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. Here we go, he thought to himself.

"It's just," Sam began, his own frustration surfacing. "We've jumped so fast into these last few hunts, regardless of where we were. Even if we were a thousand miles away, we jut packed up and went, no notice, no warning. No chance to…prepare, to…breathe. There are other hunters, Dad, but you lay claim to every single hunt like we're the only ones. And now, with these last few turning out to be wild goose-chases…"

"They are NOT wild goose chases!" John shouted, rising.

"Okay, whatever," Sam placated. "My point is, maybe we should get more information before just barreling in to the next job, see if there really is a hunt."

"See if anyone else dies, you mean," growled John, standing over his son who remained sitting on the bed. Dean shifted his position, ready to intervene if the situation escalated anymore.

"I don't want that and you know it," Sam said, standing to his full height which was just now surpassing his father's.

"Honestly Sam, I don't know what the hell you want these days. What I do know is that your attitude is pissing me off," John growled, eye to eye with Sam.

Dean now rose to his feet, feeling increasingly uneasy. This was usually the time Sam's voice would raise a notch, his chest would puff out and the argument would rise to the next level. To his surprise, though, Sam's shoulders fell a little, he sighed, stepped back and said nothing.

John, who had been waiting for the expected retort, stood his ground. For a moment, no one moved, no one breathed.

Then Sam's eyes dropped to the floor and he went back to the other room, shutting the door behind him, leaving John and Dean standing, surprised.

Dean looked at his father then made his way to the other room to check on Sam. John sat back down on his bed, rubbing a tired hand over his face, relieved that the argument had diffused but feeling like his family was falling apart before his eyes. He felt like he was slowly losing control and he had no hunt to take his frustrations out on. And no beloved wife to comfort him.

_What the hell am I doing, Mary? _

SNSNSN

Dean found Sam lying on his bed against the window, his back to him. As he sat down on his own bed, he looked over sadly at his little brother, who he knew had been growing increasingly distressed the past few months.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said dejectedly.

"Not that I'm not relieved to be spared World Winchester War 23, but you don't usually back down from Dad like that. What's going on with you?"

"I'm just tired, that's all."

"Not good enough, Sam. Not buying it. C'mon." Dean pressed.

Sam turned onto his back with a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "We've been moving around so much lately, Dean. Much more than usual. I feel like the minute we get somewhere we're off again with barely a breath. And now we're doing it without there even being a hunt…"

"There are hunts, Sammy," Dean cut in. "It's just, something weird is going on. I mean, how can a Wendigo just suddenly stop killing before its hibernation period? Or a Rawhead or a Yenaldooshi or a Bearwalker, for that matter? You'd think if hunters were taking these things down Dad would have heard about it from one of his contacts, right? Someone would have to know something. But for them to just be…gone…it doesn't make sense. I think there's something bigger going on here and I think Dad thinks so too and he's worried."

Sam looked at Dean with interest. "Bigger like what?"

Dean looked back at him. "I don't know, Sammy. I don't have a clue. Just got a bad feeling, you know?"

Sam knew Dean hated not having answers and gave him a sympathetic nod. He also consigned himself to try and not give John unnecessary grief until they had a better idea of what they were dealing with. It was the least he could do for Dean, to whom he owed so much.

SNSNSN

Fitzgerald's truck pulled up to the compound and pushed in the code on the remote keypad, opening the outer iron gates. Floodlights came on as the vehicle moved forward into the front yard, coming to a stop by a large loading platform. Will got out and went to the rear of the truck, opening the back hatch and climbing in to retrieve the Wendigo, still encased in its net. The large compound doors opened and Will dragged the Wendigo inside, hurrying as he felt the creature beginning to regain consciousness. Pulling the net down a long hallway, he stopped before a large cell and pushed another code into the room's keypad. The glass door slid open and Will pulled the Wendigo in and released it from the netting. He exited the cell and the door slid shut just as the creature awoke and made a leap for him.

"Nighty-night, Wendy," said Will with a taunting wave. He collected up the net and made his way to the end of the hall, entering a large room at the end.

The room was large and filled with computer equipment, monitors and filing cabinets. Will went to the main computer console, logged in and typed in information about his latest capture.

Howard Erksine, a smaller, weasel-like man sitting at the next console over, turned to him, hands folded on his chest.

"Any problems?"

"What do you think," Will bit back, offended that anyone would dare to ask that of him.

The other man held up his hands in a placating manner. "Sorry, pal. Just hoping for some stories, you know? A little action."

"You want action, get up off your ass and get some for yourself."

"No thank you! I'm just fine sitting right here living vicariously through masters like yourself. I just wish you'd share some exciting details with me every now and then."

Will smirked. "I'll see if I can't get the bitch to give a little fight next time, will that work for you?"

"Thank you!" the man said with a smile. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

Suddenly the main monitor came on, revealing a silhouetted figure.

"Any complications?" an ominous voice asked.

Despite the fact that the figure on the screen, known to them only as The Collector, had asked Will the very same question, Howard knew Will would answer with only the highest level of respect and compliancy.

"None. The creature is settling into Cell 18."

"I have a new subject for you to retrieve."

"Yes sir."

"I've decided to add a hunter to my collection."

"A hunter, sir?"

"There are a few of exceptional skill I've taken note of, one in particular. He's successfully destroyed many of the types of beings we have here with us. I wish to watch him do so in person."

"Yes sir. Give me a name and I'm on it."

Both Will and Howard could almost make out the unseen, malevolent sneer emanating from the silhouetted being on the screen. "Winchester," said The Collector. "John Winchester."


	3. Ambush

**Chapter Two - Ambush**

"Dean."

In the depths of sleep Dean distantly heard his name and something slap his foot. Damn, he'd been having a good dream, too. Hoping he could grab another few minutes, he rolled over onto his side, but alas, it was not to be…

"Now, Dean. You too, Sam."

Dean sat up on his elbows, blinking at the brightness of the day and glancing over to see Sam stirring in the bed next to him, then his to his father as he collected his papers and headed out to the parking lot.

"What time is it?" Dean asked Sam, who didn't seem terribly thrilled at the prospect of moving yet again.

"6:30."

"Where does the day go?" Dean asked, rising from the bed at last and heading for the bathroom. By the time he came out, Sam, ever silent, already had their things packed and passed by Dean to use the bathroom himself. Sensing Sam's foul mood but saying nothing, Dean carried their bags out to the Impala and met his father at the trunk, who was taking inventory of the weapons cache.

"So what's up?"

"Pastor Jim got wind of some attacks in the woods near Muncie, Indiana. Thinks it might be a pack of Black Dogs."

"A _pack_?" Dean said, eyebrows raised with curiosity. "Thought they operated solo."

"Could be looking at a new breed."

"Terrific," Dean said flatly. He loaded up the bags and saw Sam exiting the motel room, shutting the door behind him. Sam barely glanced at their father as he climbed into the backseat. John silently climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. _This is gonna be a long drive_, Dean thought, climbing into the passenger seat.

SNSNSN

Parking the Impala at the edge of Colburn Woods just outside of Muncie, John opened the trunk and the three Winchesters began arming themselves with various weapons, stuffing extra ammo into their pockets, knives into ankle and belt sheaths, and pistols into their waistbands. With John taking point, Sam in the middle and Dean bringing up the rear, they made their way through the woods, each on full alert for their target.

Half an hour later they reached the coordinates where Jim had said the recent attacks had taken place. Sure enough, there were signs of a struggle, pieces of shredded clothing left behind, and dried blood on the ground. Signaling to his sons, each headed out in a different direction to scope out the area for traces of the pack.

As Sam made his way along, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering slightly. He too had never heard of Black Dogs traveling in packs. He also found no tracks or any evidence of the creature in the area he was searching. Refocusing his attention to the job, he glanced over to see Dean several yards away looking for traces of his own. Suddenly, Sam got the sense that they were not alone and looked all around for signs of company.

Dean, who hadn't had any luck picking up a trail himself, glanced over at Sam and noticed his brother suddenly freeze and look around. Sam had always been able to sense things easier than him and trusted his brother's instincts, so he watched and waited. After taking in the surrounding area, Sam glanced back to Dean and with a shrug and a nod, continued forward. Dean followed suit and the hunt continued.

Another half hour passed and the three men rendezvoused in a clearing to compare notes.

"I don't know, Dad, I think this may be another bust," said Dean, wondering what his dad was thinking.

"Dammit," said John, clearly frustrated. "Sam, you find anything?"

"No sir," said Sam in no particular tone, though Dean could practically see his brother's own frustration seeping from his skin. Dean wanted to ask what Sam had sensed earlier but since it hadn't happened again and Sam wasn't bringing it up, he let it go.

"Okay, let's head back to the original coordinates and plan our next move."

"Yes sir," both boys said together.

Making their way back, they kept on alert and surveyed the area around them, but still saw nothing. Sam, who was now bringing up the rear, suddenly felt a sting on his neck.

"Ow!"

John and Dean turned to see what had happened and found Sam holding his hand up to his neck.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Something bit me, I think," Sam said, not sure himself. The woods weren't terribly bug infested and it hurt more than a mosquito bite. A bee, maybe, but he wasn't sure.

Then suddenly Sam started feeling dizzy. Seeing him start to sway, Dean quickly went to him and grasped his arm.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean asked, concern in his voice.

"I don't know," said Sam, who was now having a hard time focusing. "I feel…strange…"

Before he knew it, Dean found Sam falling unconscious to the ground. He tried to stop his brother's momentum and was glad when John ran over to them.

"What happened?" John demanded.

"I don't know," Dean said, clearly worried. "He said something bit him, then he just collapsed."

John pulled Sam's shirt collar down to see what had stung his son and found a small dart embedded in his neck.

"What the…" He was quickly on his feet, shotgun at the ready.

"Dean, get your gun ready."

"What is it Dad?"

Suddenly Dean too felt a sharp sting in his upper arm and cried out. John swung around to see Dean clasp his arm and went to him, also finding a dart.

"Dad, what's hap…"

Dizziness soon captured Dean and he felt consciousness slipping away as his legs gave out beneath him.

"Dean!" John grasped Dean and lowered him to the ground near Sam. Shotgun in hand, he called out to the woods.

"Who's there? Show your face, you sonofabitch!"

A tall man suddenly dropped down from a nearby tree, tranquilizer rifle in hand.

"John Winchester, I presume."

"Who's asking?" John said, stone-faced. He raised the shotgun as he placed himself between the man and his unconscious sons.

"Put the gun down, John. I have orders to bring you in alive and unharmed and that will happen without incident if you simply cooperate," Fitzpatrick said, his tone even.

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, seeing as how your sons are of no help to you but are in fact lying at your feet rather defenseless – and don't worry, they are just asleep, a mild tranquilizer is all – I'd say you really don't have a choice."

"And what's to keep me from killing you right now?" John said cockily.

Before he knew it, four additional men dropped down out of the trees, armed.

_Damn, how the hell did we miss that?_ John thought, cursing himself. _I thought we were better than this. When we get out of this we are so going back into training…_

"As I said, I would suggest cooperating, unless you want your sons' current state to become permanent."

John couldn't help but flinch at the sound of rifles being cocked and pointing at each of his boys.

"Don't worry, John. We don't want them. Just you."

"Why?"

Fitzpatrick sighed with impatience. "Put. The gun. Down."

A shot was fired and John saw the dirt near Dean's body fleck up as a bullet impacted with it.

"Alright!" said John, slowly lowering his gun to the ground.

"And the rest of it," said Fitzpatrick, again with a calm and even tone.

John proceeded to disarm himself, then raised his hands in surrender. "What about my boys?"

"They'll wake up with no more than a headache. No harm, no foul. Shall we?"

Fitzpatrick raised his arm to show the way he wanted John to walk. Looking down at Dean and Sam, he moved in the chosen direction with the men following. He glanced behind to make sure none of them made a move on his unconscious sons, and none did. They simply walked, quite casually, out of the woods.


	4. Welcome, John

**Chapter Three -- Welcome, John  
**

"Dean."

For the second time in as many days Dean felt someone tapping him to wake up, only this time there was no dream being interrupted. There was just a foggy haze. And something other than a soft mattress beneath him. Upon opening his eyes, the bright blur hurt like a bitch and he threw his arm over his face to block out the offending glare, which unfortunately did nothing for his pounding headache.

"Dean, you with me?"

"Bobby?" Dean asked, recognizing the voice of the old codger and long-time family friend. But what the hell was Bobby doing here? And where was here again?

_Oh, yeah, the woods. The pack of black dogs. The hunt. Dad and Sam._

Dean went to sit up and the world suddenly tilted quite unpleasantly. Thankfully, strong arms kept him from falling hard back onto the ground. "Take it easy, son," Bobby said, keeping a firm hold of Dean to steady him.

"What happened? What are you doing here? Sam? Dad?" Dean called out.

"Sam's a few feet over, still out. Your Dad's not here."

Dean, light and headache be damned, forced his eyes open upon hearing that Sam was unconscious. He scanned the area and saw his brother lying prone on the ground and made his way over to him, relieved to see him starting to come around.

"Sam?"

A groan._ Yep, kid was suffering the same rude awakening._ "Dean?"

"Right here, kiddo."

"What happened?"

"Not quite sure. Think we got shot with something. You okay?"

Sam breathed slowly in and out, trying to regain his own equilibrium, then slowly opened his eyes to meet Dean's gaze, then noticed Bobby's presence.

"Bobby? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting to hear the answer to that myself," Dean answered. "And where the hell is Dad?" Dean knew their father wouldn't willingly leave Sam and him unconscious and defenseless and figured whoever shot them had to have taken him.

Bobby helped Dean get to his shaky but ultimately stable feet, then the two helped Sam up. "Got wind of some information that you three were walking into an ambush and got myself here as quickly as I could. Not damn fast enough, apparently," said Bobby.

"What information?" asked Sam.

"Do you know who it was and what's happened to Dad?" asked Dean, looking around for any clues that might tell him what had happened to the eldest Winchester.

"Yeah, and it ain't good," answered Bobby. "Let's get back to the cars and I'll fill you on the way."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, both concerned about what had happened but, putting their trust in their family friend, followed Bobby back to the cars.

SNSNSN

As they made their way out of the woods, Bobby told Sam and Dean that he had gotten a phone call from Pastor Jim. Jim told Bobby about sending the Winchesters out to hunt the pack of black dogs but that shortly after had received a phone call from another hunter, Peter Swathmore. Peter said that he had come across a small nest of vampires nearby and went to take it out.

"Peter said that after killing the three residing vampires he went to kill the last when the bastard started begging and pleading for his life, saying he had valuable information to offer in exchange for his life," Bobby told the boys.

"What kind of information?" Sam asked.

"He said that he had recently escaped from some kind of stronghold in Missouri where a bunch of supernatural creatures were being held captive to be used for some kind of blood sport competition…" Bobby continued.

"You're kidding," Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"Fraid not," Bobby answered.

"You think he was telling the truth?" Sam asked.

"Peter said the guy was awfully desperate and definitely afraid of something."

"Yeah, getting his head chopped off," Dean said with a huff.

"Maybe, but Peter said the vamp rambled on, talking about how he'd heard some of the guards talking about how the Collector – that's apparently the guy in charge – wanted to bring in a hunter to up the stakes of the games."

"A hunter…" Dean said.

"Dad?" added Sam.

"Yeah. Vamp said they never actually said John's name but that the guards were heading out to Colburn Woods to fetch the hunter. Peter then started putting the word out to every hunter he could think of to warn them and when he came to Jim, Jim knew they must have been talking about your daddy and tried to reach you fellas but got no answer on any of your phones. That's when he called me."

"So all this was a set up to get Dad?" Dean said, clearly furious at having been duped.

"Did the vamp say where in Missouri this stronghold is?" asked Sam.

"Poplar Bluff," said Bobby.

Dean, spotting the cars before then, quickened his pace. "C'mon then. They can't have too big a head start on us. We can make it there in a few hours."

"Just hold on there a minute, son," Bobby said, grabbing Dean's arm to stop him. "We got no idea what we're dealing with here. If this Collector guy is able to snatch a hoard of beasts and whatnot and pen them up to do his bidding, he's gotta have one hell of an armory and some damn good hunters of his own. We need more information before we go running in there half-cocked."

"Bobby's right, Dean, "said Sam sympathetically. He knew the state Dean was in right now – full-on protection mode – but they had to have more facts in order to mount a successful rescue. "I mean, this ambush on us was clean, a real pro job. We gotta know more about who we're dealing with."

"Dammit," Dean shouted angrily, his frustration mounting. "Okay, so the vamp, he's gotta know more, right? Where is he now?"

"Got him secured at Peter's place in Rockford, Iowa," said Bobby.

"Then let's go have a little chat with the bloodsucker." With that, Dean got into the Impala, Sam following and Bobby climbing into his own car. Much as Dean wanted to head south toward Missouri, he knew Bobby and Sam were right. They need to know more, needed a plan if they were going to get their father back. So he headed north toward Iowa, pedal to the floorboard.

SNSNSN

John couldn't really tell how long they had been driving – the blindfold over his eyes didn't help matters – but it had definitely been several hours before he felt the van he was riding in come to a stop. The men who held him didn't say much on the drive, so no information was provided there. So he simply focused on centering himself and keeping as alert and ready as possible for any openings that presented themselves.

It was hard not to think of his boys lying unconscious and defenseless back in the woods. He was relieved when the men had walked away without harming them further and believed now that the "hunt" was a set-up, that there likely was no pack of black dogs. Still, he hoped all the woods bore were birds and squirrels and nothing more threatening. He could see now that he was the intended target, but for what purpose he had no idea. A specialized hunt? Revenge for a past one? So far these were humans he was dealing with, at least for now. _What was it Dean always said? Demons you get, people are just crazy. No question here._

On a positive note, these people who had decided not to bring Dean and Sam along maybe didn't consider them a threat. John had been involving his boys on hunts for years and they'd been doing a hell of a job, but if word was out about the Winchesters, the credit was likely still given mostly to John, delegating his sons as "adequate backup."

John smiled. The sonsabitches had no idea what the Winchester boys were capable of and would be in for the shock of their lives when the cavalry arrived. He just hoped Sam and Dean had enough know-how to get back-up of their own for the rescue.

Of course, John hoped it wouldn't come to that. That he could, in fact, get himself out of his current situation.

But as the van came to a stop and he was led from it, blindfold removed, that particular hope diminished greatly. He found himself within the walls of what looked like an abandoned prison courtyard. Heavily armed sentries were perched in each of the watchtowers above as well as at every possible entryway.

Fitzpatrick led the way toward one doorway and John was prodded to follow. As they made their way down a dark corridor, John took inventory of his surroundings, looking for potential exits points, available tools to use as weapons, distinguishing sounds. A large door at the end of the corridor parted open automatically and he was led into a room with a dirt floor, lit only by a large spotlight in the middle, which he was made to stand in.

"Welcome John Winchester. I hope the ride in wasn't too uncomfortable," a voice thundered out to him.

"I've had worse," John said, carefully keeping his tone controlled and casual. "Wish I could say the same about the method of invitation."

"Yes, well, I've grown accustomed to bringing my other guests here a certain way and I suppose old habits die hard. You understand."

"Care to tell me why I'm here? And who these other guests are?"

"You're here, Mr. Winchester, because you've made a formidable impression in the world of hunting evil," said the voice, which John would swear bore a trace of respect and admiration. "Your track record in killing supernatural beings is quite impressive. When I made inquiries as to who was considered to be an outstanding hunter, your name was brought up more than most."

"What can I say, I like my job."

"Job. Interesting," said the voice. "I was under the impression your quest is one driven by revenge. Your wife was killed by a demon, was she not?"

John stood his ground, saying nothing, poker face firmly in place.

"But your demon hasn't been heard from in some time, has it? Yet still you choose to chase after harmful creatures that prey on the innocent. You've even chosen to raise your sons to hunt as well, despite the ever-present danger and violence that comes with it. I don't know whether to respect your dedication or pity your selfishness."

"Why don't you just tell me why I'm here," said John firmly.

"You're here, John – may I call you John? – you're here for me to watch you work. I've become bored with my current source of amusement and feel a need to add a new element. That element is you."

"And what is it I'll be doing, exactly?" John asked, trying to mask the twinge of nervousness he was increasingly feeling.

"Hunting, John. What you do best."

"And what is it I'll be hunting?"

"Oh don't worry, John. I have plenty of subjects to keep you occupied."

With that, flood lights suddenly came on, illuminating the vast arena John found himself in. The room was silo-like, tall and round. As John looked up, he saw levels upon levels of cells surrounding him. Within each cell, he recognized a plethora of creatures: yetis, wolves, black dogs, leszies, rawheads. Human-like beings he assumed were witches, zombies, vampires or a dozen other creatures. Dozens of them.

All of them pounding on the walls of their glass cages, screaming and howling down at him. None hiding their fervent desire to get to him to rip him to shreds.

John gulped, unable to stop the shudder running down his spine. He was in trouble. Deep, massive, incalculable trouble.

_Oh, Mary…_


	5. In The Know

**Author's Note****:** I have to admit to taking a little liberty with using vampires in this story. Clearly we learned that Dean believed there were no such things as vampires in "Dead Man's Blood," but I can't not have them in the story I've envisioned, so please forgive a little AU here. I also had to stop myself as I was planning to incorporate the return of the character of Kate when I realized … DOH! … they haven't encountered her yet! Ah, the frustrations a writer faces. Anyhoo…

**Chapter Four -- In The Know  
**

"I swear I've told you everything I know!"

Upon arriving at Peter Swathmore's ranch, Dean wasted no time in jumping into his own interrogation of the captured vampire. Truth be told he had believed vampires were one supernatural species that didn't exist. _Guess again, Winchester_, he thought to himself as he stood before the very-real creature, whose name was Vinnie.

Yep, Vinnie the Vampire. Dean had a good chuckle over that one.

What wasn't so funny was the fact that the vamp didn't seem to have much more information to offer about the mysterious compound he'd been held at. Peter had apparently worked him over pretty well and since he seemed to be kind of a lightweight and not a fan of pain, Vinnie was more than willing to answer any and all questions just to avoid any further torture.

Dean decided to try a different tactic and threatened him with a large crucifix, but Vinnie merely looked at him befuddled, as if to say "you're gonna hurt me with that?" So much for traditional vampire lore.

So Dean resorted to tried-and-true, in-your-face intimidation – along with a loud, booming voice. "C'mon, you've gotta know more! How many of them were there? What was security like? What are they planning to do with the hunter they were going after?"

"It's like I told you, they got like hundreds of things in there, you know? Human things, non-human things, monsters, all kinds of things, you know? I don't know how many guards, but it's like Fort Knox, you know? Big walls, long hallways, I'm sure there gotta be lots of guards, cameras, too, but I didn't see none, I swear! I just saw a way out and I took it! I just ran, you know?" Vinnie rattled off, hardly ever taking his eyes off Dean, or more specifically, Dean's balled fists.

"That doesn't make any sense," Sam interjected. "If it's that much of a stronghold, it doesn't seem likely you'd be able to escape so easily, if at all."

"Unless they let him go," said Peter.

"Why would they do that?" Dean asked.

All four men took a moment to think of a plausible reason, but seemed to draw a blank. Then Sam had a thought.

"Vinnie, you said you overheard some of the guards talking about bringing in a hunter for the games."

"Yeah, but I didn't hear a name or nothin'."

"Did the guards openly discuss things, operating procedures and such, in front of the prisoners a lot?"

Dean, Peter and Bobby looked at Sam, wondering where he was going with this, but Dean knew his brother could easily think outside the box and trusted he was on to something.

"Not a lot, no," Vinnie answered. "Come to think of it, we hardly ever saw them outside of them taking someone to and from their cells, and they never said a word while doing that."

Sam turned to address everyone. "Seems like they wanted our pal Vinnie here to overhear their plans to bring in a hunter, then made it possible for him to magically escape."

"But why?" asked Peter.

"To get the message to us, I guess." Sam offered.

"But how could they know we'd even meet Vinnie?" Dean asked.

"Pete, how did you find out about the vampire nest?" Bobby asked.

"Got wind of it from a local contact. Kind of a go-to snitch of the paranormal."

"Who could have gotten the intel from just about anyone, right?" Bobby asked again.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait, Bobby, you think this whole thing was an additional set-up? For us?" Sam asked.

"Looking that way, isn't it. They made sure word got to Peter about the nest, and trusting that hunters talk to other hunters, figured word would eventually get around to us."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense," Dean said, frustration growing. "If they wanted us, too, why not just take us along with Dad? God knows they had the opportunity."

Sam sighed. He had nothing.

"This Collector guy, with these 'games' of his, he watches, right? Likes to watch the prisoners fight?" Peter asked Vinnie.

"Yeah," answered the vampire.

"Maybe he's jonesing to see all three Winchesters in action, your dad up close and you two coming in for the big rescue."

"Yeah, but why us? I mean, sure we're awesome and all…" Dean said, forgoing all modesty.

"Dean, be serious…" Sam said.

"I am serious, Sam!" Dean snapped. "Some power-hungry freak with a voyeurism fetish and a team of hunters is targeting us and doing a damn good job of leaving us pissing in the wind. They've got Dad, along with God knows how many creatures – things we've hunted and killed, mind you, so, you know, no love there – locked up in some super fortress in the middle of butt-crap, Missouri, and now it looks like they're gonna get off on watching us come for Dad, like we're some friggin' mice running around a friggin' maze! So excuse me for being a little upset about not knowing what the hell is going on! Dammit!" Dean finished his rant by kicking a nearby table, rattling the contents upon it.

Outburst complete, Dean turned away from the men and ran both hands through his short hair, frustration at an all-time high. None of the others, including Sam, knew what to say. Even Vinnie knew to keep silent.

Dean eventually turned back around and met Sam's eyes, finding only sympathy and understanding. Sam still said nothing, and Dean loved him for that. For knowing when not to say anything. For knowing that this was a time when there were no right words to say. But still being able to say so much, give so much support, with just his eyes. That was Sam's gift, and Dean treasured it.

With a huff and a nod, Dean went to release Vinnie from the chair, still keeping his hands bound. "C'mon, Vinnie, we're going for a ride."

"Boy, don't you even think of going out there by yourselves, especially since we're pretty damn sure they're expecting you. Let's be smart, take a minute, make a plan first."

"Dean, Bobby's right, we should…" Sam added.

"Sam," Dean said in that way of his that clearly meant "don't even think of questioning me on this." With that, Dean proceeded to lead Vinnie out to the car.

"Sam," said Bobby, with his _own_ way that meant "will you talk some sense into that thick-headed idgit brother of yours."

"It's Dad, Bobby," Sam said sadly. Of course the smart thing to do would be to take a moment and think things through. But ultimately he had to stand by his brother and trust they would get the job done like they always do. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out. We'll be careful, I promise. Hey, at least they don't know that we know that they're expecting us, right?" he said with a small smile. He picked up their duffles and went to join Dean in the car.

"I hope to hell you're right, kid," Bobby said worriedly.


	6. Civilized Conversation

"Good morning, John."

John covered his eyes with his arm as bright fluorescent lights blared on above him, illuminating his modestly furnished room. _At least they saw fit to give me the basics, _he thought to himself as he arose from his cot and saw a sink, toilet stall, wooden foot locker and a small window on the adjacent wall.

On the opposite wall was the door to the room, in which now stood a small man of about 60, with silver hair and glasses resting partway down his long-sloped nose. Dressed in a well-tailored dark suit with a blue/small yellow-polka-dotted tie, he held a silver cane with an eagle head top in his right hand, though it seemed to be more of an accessory than a walking tool.

"I hope you are well-rested. You have a busy day ahead of you. Shall we?" said the man in a rather heavy accent – Russian or Hungarian, perhaps – as he motioned behind him, implying John should follow him out of the room.

"What, no breakfast?" John said with a smirk, taking notice that the old man appeared to be alone and gauging his best first, second and third options for escape.

"But of course, John," said the man amiably. "You don't think I would send you off to work without a hearty meal?"

"Guess not," replied John, rising from the cot and pulling on his flannel overshirt. "Think I could have the courtesy of knowing your name?" he asked, mimicking the man's hoity-civilized tone with just a hint of Winchester snark.

"I am Victor Sobcynski." With that, Victor turned to walk down the unseen hallway. John paused for a moment, and, seeing no one follow, he stepped out, bracing himself for opportunity number one to present itself. It wasn't a surprise, though, when just behind the opened door stood Fitzpatrick with a cattle-prod like instrument in his hand. John smirked at him and followed after Victor, who entered another room at the end of the hall.

As John entered the room, he felt as though he had stepped into another world. The stark, cold concrete corridor left behind, he found himself within a warm, classic study filled top to bottom with books, art and collectibles. A fire raged in the corner hearth and a large table was set in the middle of the room, complete with an impressive array of fruits, danishes and other breakfast items.

"Please, sit, eat," instructed Victor, who took a seat at one end of the table, leaving the empty seat at the other the obvious choice for John. John noticed two other henchmen standing nearby, also armed, so he went and took the offered seat, taking in the contents of the room to see what if anything could be useful to him.

"Tell me about yourself, John."

"What would you like to know, Vic? Or should I say, what don't you already know?"

"Very good," Victor chuckled, and turned to address his men. "You see? This is why I have chosen as I have. Indeed I know a great deal about you, John. You were born March 13, 1954 in Olathe, Kansas and moved to Lawrence with your family when you were seven. You met your wife, Mary, in high school and proposed to her just after graduation, right before you joined the U.S. Marine Corp, in which you served two tours, though fortunately not in Vietnam. Your skills as a mechanic were judged to be more valuable on the homefront, yes? After your service you returned to your beloved Mary and married. A few years later came the birth of your first son Dean on January 24, 1979, followed by the birth of your second son Samuel on May 2, 1983. Six months later your wife was killed by your demon and you've been hunting for it and everything else ever since."

Keeping his best game face on, John sat and listened as Victor clinically, emotionlessly rattled off beloved moments of his life. He'd be damned if he'd give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him react, but secretly he was wincing inside. "Well, seems to me you do know a hell of a lot."

"I do, yes, but these are merely facts. Empty. No heart, no substance. To truly know you, John Winchester, to know the man I have brought here to sit before me, I wish to know what is…underneath. For instance, what was your wife' favorite scent?"

_Play along, Winchester_, John thought, game face firm. "Arabian jasmine."

"And your first car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala."

"Same car you drive to this day. Clearly you are a talented mechanic. What was your son Dean's first word?"

"Ball."

"And when did you first tell Samuel about the evil in the world?"

John couldn't help but flinch slightly at this question. "I didn't. Dean did."

"You did not take the responsibility to tell him yourself?"

John balled his hands into fists under the table. He learned that Dean had told Sam the truth about their family about a month following one Christmas when he'd been off on a hunt. Sam had tried to conceal that he knew but the kid was never good at keeping his emotions in check. John hadn't been happy that Dean had told him, but Sam had come to his brother's defense and said he'd found the journal and figured it out for himself. He just made Dean confirm it. John knew the time to tell Sam had been coming for a while and hoped he had a little while longer, but it was not to be. "My boys have a special relationship. It was easier for Sam to hear it from Dean, since Dean had been through learning the truth himself."

"Yes, they are truly remarkable young men, your sons. I very much look forward to meeting them both."

Game face gone. John was convinced Victor held no interest in Sam and Dean since he had left them behind in the woods. How could he be so blind? "You leave them alone. You want to watch a hunter in action, fine, then watch me. Test me, put up against your worst. But leave my sons the hell alone," he said in his darkest, most murderous tone.

"Oh, but John, they are sure to come after you, no? They would not just leave their father to an unknown fate. And you've trained them so thoroughly I would imagine they are well on their way here to finding you." Victor purposefully left out letting John know about Vinnie and his little "message." More entertaining that way.

"You sonofabitch!" John growled, pushing up from his chair, knocking it over, and lurching for Victor, only to be stopped by Fitzpatrick and his handy cattle-prod. As John lay on the ground, flattened by the electric jolt, Victor casually rose from his seat, wiped the corners of his mouth with his cloth napkin, straightened his tie and cleared his throat.

"It would seem our hunter is ready to get to work. Prepare the first. As soon as John has collected himself, we'll shall begin."

As John breathed through the tremors the electric shock induced on his body, he called out mentally to his sons: _Be alert, boys. Be ready. Watch your backs. He knows. He knows…_


	7. The First Challenge

**Chapter Six – The First Challenge**

"Yep, that's gotta be the place," Dean said, looking through the high-powered binoculars atop the ridge above the compound. "Looks like they got plenty of storm troopers watching the place from all sides. Ain't gonna be easy getting in."

Sam took in the entirety of the perimeter. On the east side, there was the bank of a river, wide open. To the west, a dense forest which offered slightly more hope of cover. He couldn't see what lay behind the buidlings, but it didn't look any more promising. "Maybe we can find an old sewer line to enter through."

"Maybe."

"See anything…non-human around?"

"Not so far," Dean answered as he continued to look around with the binoculars. "But if what ol' Vinnie says is true, this Collector guy's got himself his very own Manticore."

"His own what?" Sam asked.

"Manticore. _Dark Angel_? Compound of mutant freaks?" Sam gave no sigh of recognition. "Dude…forget it." Dean said with a huff, returning to his surveillance.

"So do we have a plan yet?" Sam asked.

"Well, looking at that place, I think you're right about Vinnie's 'escape' being a little too easy, so I think it's safe to assume they're expecting us, agreed?"

"Agreed."

Dean pointed the binoculars toward the woods. "I think the woods are our best bet. We should wait till dark, though."

"I think it's also safe to assume they're gonna have a welcoming party waiting for us from every direction," Sam added.

"Safe to assume."

Sam sighed. This was not going to be easy. "We should talk to Bobby, get some reinforcements."

"I have a feeling the cavalry's already being assembled," Dean answered. This was Bobby they were talking about, after all. "I don't think we can wait, though. It's an hour till dark and we have no way of knowing what's happening with Dad. I think we gotta try and get in there."

"Yeah."

"Let's get back to the car and load up. I got a feeling we're gonna need everything we can carry."

Crawling back on their bellies, they made their way back to the Impala.

SNSNSN

_**12 hours earlier…**_

John awoke to find himself lying on the floor of a large warehouse-like structure. Beams of sunlight shown down from windows high above and he could make out a labyrinth of crates throughout the room. He suddenly felt like a very small rat in a very large maze. Beside him was a duffle bag in which he found a glock pistol, a stake, some matches, a small pocketknife and a flask. He began loading his pockets with the supplies and stuck the pistol into his waistband. Standing, he quieted himself to listen to the room. Sure enough, he heard shuffling from the far end, along with a low growl. _Okay, so not-human_, he surmised. _Gimme something else to go on, friend_. It would have been nice if Victor had let him know what he'd be facing, but then, that would have been too easy. After all, the bastard wanted to see the great John Winchester in action. What better way than to see him figure out a hunt from start to finish.

He gave a brief thought to Sam and Dean and wondered if they were indeed on their way to him, but quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. _One thing at a time here, John. Focus_.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, very large, not terribly fast. _Okay, something corporeal. Could be a werewolf…no, wait, full moon was last week, so strike that. Wendigo maybe._ Then he caught another glimpse. The creature was closer and John was able to get a better look. _Gotcha_, he smiled_. Rawhead. Okay, so the gun is fairly useless. Ditto the stake. Gonna have to improvise here_, he thought as he looked all around the room. He noticed a sprinkler system running the length of the ceiling. As he looked around for the other tool he needed, he suddenly heard a guttural growl and looked just in time to see the beast running at him. He ducked just as a large claw swept out at him, catching him on the shoulder. He grabbed the gun from his waist and fired at the beast twice, hitting it square in the chest. That only seemed to piss it off and it came at him once again. John ducked and rolled, then ran to a nearby crate and began climbing.

He knew Rawheads weren't the smartest creatures and hoped he could buy some time before the thing figured out how to climb up after him. Sure enough, he could hear pure anger in the howl the Rawhead released.

John continued his ascent on the crates till he was close enough to one of the sprinkler heads. Taking out the matches, he lit them and held them up to the head. Moments later, a shower of water poured out of the system. John then made his way atop the crates till he found what he was looking for: a fuse box. Making his way down to it, he could hear the Rawhead below, far closer than he liked for comfort, but then again, he knew he needed to lure the creature in closer for his plan to work. As he made his way closer to the fuse box, he found a clump of rope and grabbed it up. Looping one end over a rafter above, he tied off the ends, then removed his belt and looped it through the rope. _Glad Dean made me sit through all those MacGyver reruns_, John chuckled.

He made his way back down to floor level right next to the fuse box, keeping the belt/rope loop, which hung just above head-level, close by.

"Hey, fugly!" he yelled out. "I'm over here!"

Another guttural roar and John saw the beast come into view. John blocked the fuse box, just in case the thing had some smarts to figure out the trap. Apparently not, as the creature charged full-steam toward him. Just as it was about to ram into him, John hoisted himself up the rope, lifting both feet off the ground, and watched as the Rawhead ran head first into the fuse box, causing an explosion of sparks and electrical current to run through it and all along the floor. Despite the fiery pain lancing through his wounded shoulder, John held on until the current burned itself out. Moments later, the sprinklers shut off and he let himself down, clutching his bleeding shoulder and looking down upon the now-crispy Rawhead at his feet.

Flood lights shot on and John heard Victor's voice below out.

"Well done, John! Most impressive!" Victor said, walking across the room, clapping. "Very clever indeed."

John wanted nothing more than to smack the smug smile off Victor's face, but he saw the usual henchman, including Fitzpatrick, following behind and knew he'd have to wait for another time.

"William, please escort John to the infirmary to have his shoulder attended to and then see about disposing of that," Victor said, nodding toward the Rawhead's remains. "I am most impressed, John, and I look forward to your next challenge." With that, he turned and made his way out of the room. Fitzpatrick approached John, cattle-prod once again in hand, and John made his way past him to head to the infirmary.

"You heard the man, Willy. Better clean it all up, too. Doubt Vic would appreciate any mess left behind on his nice, clean floor." John said with a swagger as he walked past Fitzpatrick.

And John could swear he saw steam rise out of the fuming man's ears.


	8. The Witch Doctor

Chapter Seven – The Witch Doctor

Fitzgerald shoved John into the infirmary, which John could see was a modest facility containing all the basics in medical supplies and equipment. In the far corner stood a slender, red-headed woman, who was busy unloading a crate and restocking a nearby cabinet.

Glancing over her shoulder, the woman addressed the new arrivals. "So what've you brought me today, Fitzy?" Turning around to face them, she took but a second to look John over. "New blood, huh? Have a seat, I'll be right with you." She then went back to her task.

"Behave yourself, Johnny," Fitzpatrick whispered to John in a taunting tone. "Try anything and she won't hesitate to rip your heart out and feed it to her pup." With a chuckle he left the room. John believed the threat seeing as how he was left unshackled in the woman's presence.

John went over to the nearby exam table and sat down, trying to downplay his injured shoulder so he himself would seem less defenseless. The woman came over and and began putting on a pair of latex gloves.

"So, what are you?" the woman asked as casually as if she was asking for the time.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you're clearly human in origin, so we talking werewolf? Vampire? Shifter?"

"Hunter."

"Really? That's new. Victor branching out to collect hunters now?"

"Seems like." John, still feeling the woman out, was careful to keep his answers concise.

"Take off your shirt," she said, turning to a tray of assorted bandages and supplies.

John removed his overshirt but paused at removing the t-shirt underneath.

Turning back to him, the woman's expression remained stoic. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna bite. Other things here might, but not me, I assure you."

John couldn't help but smile just a little and proceeded to remove his shirt, grunting slightly at the discomfort his shoulder caused.

"So what's your name?" she asked as she began treating his wound.

"John Winchester."

For the first time, her reaction changed slightly as she paused and met his eyes, then continued on.

"And you are?"

"Serenity. Reynolds. You can call me Sera."

"Heard of me, have you Sera?"

"Actually, I have. You took out some acquaintances of mine a few years back."

"Oh?" John tensed ever so slightly, but Sera noticed.

"Don't worry. They weren't friends. They followed a different path than I do."

"Who were they?"

"A coven out of Worchester, Mass."

"Witches." John vaguely remembered taking out a group of vengeful witches who were killing anyone who had done them wrong some years ago.

Sera nodded.

"That would make you…"

"Yep."

John looked down to his shoulder, which was now receiving a few stitches courtesy of Sera, then back to her.

"Already heard 'em all, so don't bother."

"What?" John asked innocently.

"Any number of witch doctor jokes or references that may have sprung to mind just now," she said, a twinkle in her eye to let him know she wasn't angry yet still conveying that he shouldn't go there. "Besides, I'm not officially a doctor. I worked in a medical clinic while going to nursing school and picked up enough to be considered qualified enough to man this place," she said as she referenced the infirmary.

"Enjoy working for Vic, do ya?" John said, not hiding the contempt in his tone.

She again paused and looked him dead in the eye. "Just because I'm not locked away in a cell somewhere doesn't mean I'm not a prisoner." With that, she tugged the last stitch hard and John couldn't help but wince. "There are all kinds of shackles." She cut the stitching twine and began bandaging the rest of the wound.

"Binding spell," John surmised.

Sera confirmed with a look and a raise of the eyebrows.

"Sorry."

"I'm all done here. You can put your shirt back on. I'll take the stitches out in a couple of days, so try to keep them covered and dry." She went to return the unused supplies on the tray back to the shelves.

"How long have you been here?" John asked as he redressed.

"About a year. After work one night I came across a man who had been attacked in an alley. He was bleeding out and I knew there wasn't enough time to get help and since no one was around, I healed him enough to staunch the bleeding, then called for an ambulance. Before I knew it, I was grabbed from behind, thrown into a van and brought here."

"You were set up?"

"I don't know for sure. I'd always taken great care not to reveal my powers, only using them when absolutely necessary, which wasn't often and certainly not in public, so I don't think they had foreknowledge about me. But it turns out the guy in the alley was one of Victor's goons and his friends were nearby, caught the show and figured I'd be a nice addition to the collective. Nice, huh? Turns out no good deed really does goes unpunished."

"So if you have the power to heal, why would Victor bind you from using it?"

"He didn't." John again looked to his shoulder and back to her. "Look, just because I can heal doesn't mean I have to. I studied very hard to treat people medically the old-fashioned way and I'd rather it not go to waste. My choice."

John nodded in understanding.

"Besides, if I went ahead and instantly healed you, you'd be on your next hunt a lot sooner, so let's have a little less judgment and a little more gratitude, okay?"

"Okay."

A moment.

"So what can you tell me about Victor and this collection of his?"

"What, you didn't get the grand tour upon your arrival?"

"Oh, no, I did. I'd just rather hear it from an insider's viewpoint. Or are you not allowed to…" John looked around, trying to spot any cameras and wondering if the room was monitored.

Catching on to John's pausing, Sera responded. "Don't worry, this room isn't under surveillance. Victor doesn't consider me any kind of a threat so you can speak freely."

"You've never thought of at least trying to escape? Or helping someone else to so they could get help?"

"What for? Anything that ever has gotten out of here has either ended up dead or been used to lure something else in. There is no out, John, so don't waste your energy looking for one."

John's thoughts drifted to Sam and Dean.

"They can't help either," Sera said, causing John to quickly look up. "They're just gonna get caught, too."

"Telepathic, too, huh?"

"Guilty."

"That power not considered a threat either?"

"Not yet. Managed to keep that one under wraps. I like to keep some control in here. Don't worry, I can control it. I know how much I'd hate having someone rattling around in my head. But sometimes particularly strong thoughts break through, especially ones linked to high emotions." John knew she was referring to his thinking about the boys. "But as far as a threat goes, it's not like I can think someone to death, right?" Sera said with a sarcastic tone.

"Guess not," John said offhandedly, then snapped to with an idea. "Just how powerful are you?"

She looked at him quizzically as John smiled.

SNSNSN

About a mile away, Dean and Sam, having equipped themselves as much as possible with a variety of assorted weapons and hidden the Impala underneath a blanket of shrubbery, were making their way to the edge of the forest adjoining the compound. They had gone over every possible approach and even though they were sure the woods were most likely under surveillance, deemed it their best hope. A call into Bobby confirmed that sure enough, the old man was getting together a band of hunters to come back them up. Bobby had asked the guys to wait, but Dean just couldn't stand by and do nothing, especially without knowing what was happening to their dad. He reasoned that if he and Sam could breach the perimeter and get on the inside, they could cause some havoc and draw the enemy's attention to them and away from the approaching cavalry. Bobby had protested fiercely but knew Winchester stubbornness when he was slammed with it, so with a grunt he wished the boys luck.

Dusk was quickly approaching and Dean and Sam, utilizing their years of stealth training, carefully made their way into the woods, listening and watching out for anything.

_Knows._

Sam suddenly stopped in his tracks and dropped at the sound of the voice, causing Dean to do the same when he'd seen Sam go down. Dean looked to Sam then all around to see if he could tell what had caused his brother's action but saw and heard nothing. Looking back to Sam for an answer, Sam could only shrug with a silent "sorry, I don't know what that was."

Continuing on again, Sam again heard the voice, slightly louder, and once again dropped.

_Careful._

Dean dropped again, but again saw and heard no reason for the response and was mildly ticked off. He made his way over to find out what the hell was going on with his brother.

"Dude, this isn't freaking red-light-green-light! What the hell is going on with you?"

"Sorry, I don't…I keep hearing…at least, I think I'm hearing…" he began to get up, both boys shielding themselves behind nearby trees.

"Hearing what?" Dean whispered loudly, clearly frustrated.

_Stop._

Both Dean and Sam hit the deck this time, them looked to each other.

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell, Sam?"

"I think…I heard it in my head."

"That's impossible."

_Dean…_

"What?" Dean couldn't help but say out loud, but there was no one around that he could see, especially not a woman.

"Dean?"

"Shut up for a second." Dean sat with his back against the tree and quieted himself, waiting. Sam mirrored his brother against the other tree.

They waited. Nothing. Then…

_Collector knows…coming…get help…safe…_

Dean looked to Sam. "Collector knows."

Sam looked to Dean. "Get help."

Both said in unison, "Safe."

"Dad?" Sam asked Dean.

"It's a chick's voice, man," answered Dean, confused as hell.

"I know, but maybe it's a message from Dad," Sam said with an eye roll.

"Or maybe it's a trick. Either way, how the hell are they in our freakin' heads?"

"Knowing what we know, what we've encountered in our lives, you even have to ask?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Dean gave a look that read "touché."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked finally.

"We go on. Help is on the way. We don't know if we can trust the … voice…so nothing's changed. We go and get Dad as planned."

With that, Dean began his stealthy path deeper into the forest, Sam, with a sigh, right on his heels.

SNSNSN

"Ow."

Sera sat on the stool, her hand to her head, John standing by, waiting.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, pointing to a bottle on the counter. John went over and picked it up, opened it, and poured two tablets into his hand. Grabbing a bottle of water next, he brought them back to Sera. "Haven't made a long-distance call like that in a while. Should've stretched first," she said with a smile.

"Did you get through?"

"I think so. Enough of it, anyway. I've got a feeling their still coming for you, though."

"Doesn't surprise me. At least we've warned them."

"It won't be enough, John."

"You don't know my boys."

"You don't know Victor."

"Guess we'd better give them a hand, then."

"Look around, John! We've got the serious disadvantage here!"

"That's when I'm at my best, kiddo."

"You're crazy…" she said, barely able to contain a smile.

"It's been said."

"You'll never make it…"

"Not alone I won't."

Sera knew what he was asking. She then asked herself if this was what she had been waiting for. A real chance to get out. To put an end to this nightmare and get back to the life that was stolen from her. Was John Winchester the answer?

Sure, they could fail. They could get caught, both die today. Game over.

Sera gave another look to the man before her.

Screw it. Who wants to live forever anyway?

"Then I guess you're not alone."

John smiled and reached for the door, but Sera grabbed his arm.

"First things first…"

She reached her hand under his shirt to the wound in his shoulder and he felt a buzzing warmth instantly in the hurt area. Moments later, all pain was gone and he had fill mobility back.

"Damn, girl."

"Wait till the binding spell is gone. Then you'll really see something."

With that, she led the way out of the infirmary. With a nod and a twitch of the mouth, John followed.


	9. Never Easy

**Author's Note****: Hey, it only took a FREAKIN' YEAR to figure out what I was going to have encounter Dean and Sam in the woods outside the compound! Could've been worse, right? :) **** Thanks for those who have read this up till now and have come back for more and welcome to the newcomers! I promise to try very hard not to get stuck again!**

Chapter Eight – Never Easy

Sam and Dean reached the perimeter of the woods with no incident or interference. Making their way in a few feet at a time, they paused frequently to survey the area and listen for anyone – or anything approaching.

"This is way too easy man," Sam said.

"Shut up, you'll jinx us," Dean retorted back.

Sure enough, something sounded off ahead of them.

"Just had to open your big mouth!" Dean snapped.

"Sorry," Sam replied with a sheepish grin. "Don't see anything."

"Me neither."

They both stilled, listening. Suddenly, they could hear…

"Is that…"

"Couldn't be…."

They listened again. Sure enough …

"Dude, it's laughing," Dean said, unbelievably.

"Not it. Them," Sam said, listening as a cluster of what sure sounded like high-pitched, maniacal laughter came from directly in front of them. And to the side of them. And to the rear.

"Crap, they're surrounding us!" Dean exclaimed, suddenly on his feet edging next to Sam and looking all around them.

"Yeah, but what are they?"

Suddenly one of the somethings leapt out at them and latched onto the sleeve of Dean's shirt. He yelped out and grabbed at it, pulling it off and throwing it away from him, catching only a glimpse in the moonlit night.

"You gotta be freakin kidding me!" he cried out.

"Gremlins??" Sam asked incredulously.

"Sonofabitch," Dean said flatly. His life was never boring.

SNSNSN

Sera had insisted stopping at her quarters to get a few things before trying to make their way to Victor's office, which John had deduced would be their best course of action. With the binding spell in tact, Sera wouldn't be able to short out the cameras or take out any guards they encountered on the way, so they'd have to improvise.

Fortunately, her room was quite close to infirmary with only one camera, but it had a small blind spot that they were able to use and get past.

Sera's room was more comfortable than the prisoner cells, but not by much. No sense giving her a sense that she was much more special than the others, John figured. From a cabinet she grabbed several hypodermic needles, then moved onto a chest which seemed to contain a variety of herbs and vials.

"How did you get this stuff in here?" John asked.

"Well, I'm kinda like Red in the _Shawshank Redemption_. Just made some friends with the outside world who help me smuggle some things in."

'What do they get in return?"

"Don't ask."

John raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, get your head out of the gutter, Winchester! Tapes of the fights, vampire blood, that kind of stuff, okay?"

"Hey, I didn't…"

"Yes you did, though I know it wasn't on purpose. Guess men's minds just go right to that on instinct."

"Thought you could control the mind-reading thing."

"I can, except I kinda have a lot going on in my head right now so I lapsed, okay? Sue me."

John said nothing, just put up his hands in surrender and backed up as Sera continued gathering items, lastly a long metal staff.

"Now how did you get that without them knowing?" John said about the all-too-familiar cattle prong.

"Don't. Ask." Sera said, eyes piercing.

She made her way to the door, John once again following.

SNSNSN

"Dean…"

They were surrounded now, the gremlins no longer keeping stealthily hidden but overtly and completely surrounding them.

"Dean."

Sam watched as the wicked little monsters grinned with fangs full of slobber, evil giggles growing louder.

"Dean!"

"Gimme a minute, will ya! Trying to think here!"

"Well could you think faster!" Sam cried desperately, watching as one section looked poised to make their move.

"That's it!" Dean cried out, suddenly dropping to his knees and scrambling through his duffle."

"That's what??"

Dean arose with …his flashlight. Not a gun, no salt or machete. The flashlight.

Before Sam could comment, Dean switched on the torch and shined it at the gremlins.

"Take that, you little bastards!" Dean exclaimed with a hardy laugh.

Sam couldn't believe it when the gremlins within the beam backed off from the light.

"How did you…"

"Bright light, Sam! Remember?" Then, in a munchkin-like voice, "Bright light! Bright light!"

Then it hit Sam. Dean, and his penchant for bad sci-fi films.

"A movie, Dean? You're relying on the movie???"

"It's working, isn't it?" Dean said, continuing to swing the beam around to the horde. "Whatever you do, don't throw any holy water at them!"

"I suppose I shouldn't fed them, either!"

"Oh, you're hilarious. Why don't you shut your yap and help me out here!"

Sam wanted to retort but thought the timing not the best, so he knelt down and sought out his own flashlight. Looking up to gauge the situation, he noticed a long branch lying close by. He grabbed it and took out his handkerchief, wrapping it around one end. He then took out the small bottle of rubbing alcohol from the med kit and poured it on the rag and reached for his lighter.

Dean wondered what the hell was taking his brother so long but smiled when he saw Sam's plan.

Sam lit the torch and began waving it at the gremlins, making them back up even further.

"So?" he asked, turning back briefly to Dean.

"So what?" Dean answered, trying to figure out their next move.

"How did the movie end?"

"Um…" Dean thought, not remembering at the moment.

"Dean!"

"I'm thinking! I think they trapped the suckers in a store fountain and electrocuted them."

"Well that's no help!"

"I know!!"

"So what do we do??"

"I don't know!!!"

Sam looked beyond the horde and suddenly had an idea. Hell, an idea at this point was better than none."

"I do." Reaching down, he grabbed the duffle and swung it over his shoulder, then grabbed Dean's and handed it to him."

"RUN!" And with that, they opened up a whole in the crowd with the torch and took off deeper into the woods.


	10. Come Play, Little Mice

**Chapter Nine – Come Play, Little Mice**

There were just too damn many of them.

Like a swarm of bees, the gremlins chased after the brothers as they ran, seemingly coming at them from all directions. Dean and Sam had taken to shooting at them, which they didn't think would work but miraculously seemed to have some effect at stopping the ones they hit. _So much for the movies_, Dean thought as he ran, trying his best to keep Sam in his sights at the same time as the hoard of nasties on their tails.

Sam also did his best to keep Dean in sight, wondering where the hell they were running to. "Away" just didn't seem to offer any immediate solutions to their current problem and he was low on ammo and knew Dean had to be as well. Every few seconds he would feel a gremlin or two latch on to him from a frantic leap and so far he had managed to dislodge them, but not before they got a few good swipes of their claws in. And damn, if that didn't hurt like a bitch.

The situation was just not good, and getting no better.

Suddenly, in what had to be a united ploy, a group of gremlins in front of them had lined up along the ground like a living spike strip. Unfortunately he saw it a second too late and tripped right over it, landing hard on the ground. Apparently Dean had missed the trap as well as Sam heard a similar grunt and whomp from next to him.

He found himself quickly covered by the swarm, their screeches deafening, their claws scratching away. Sam put his arms over his head to best try and protect his face but deemed the situation hopeless. As quickly as they attacked, though, they were suddenly gone, screeches of a different tone indicating a hasty retreat. Sam dared to open his eyes and was temporarily blinded by a series of floodlights surrounding them. He looked over and saw Dean in a similar huddling on the ground but soon met his brother's equally confused expression.

His eyes now adjusted, Sam began to get up and look around, but not a gremlin was in site. Just the empty, now eerily silent woods.

"What the…" he heard Dean ask as he approached Sam. "You okay?"

"Yeah, you?" Sam asked, dusting himself off and quickly assessing any serious wounds on both himself and Dean.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, the flood lights shut off and they were again left in darkness.

"Well, that was helpful, but somehow I get the feeling it was only for our temporary benefit," Sam observed.

"Vinnie did say he thought this Collector freak liked to play with his toys," Dean said, looking around. "But I would think he'd wait to see how we'd get rid of the gremlins ourselves before bailing us out."

"We weren't exactly doing a very good job with that."

"True."

"What now?"

Dean started picking up their gear. "Now we go on, try to find a way in. Bastard knows we're here, but that doesn't change anything. Just beready for anything."

"From what we already know about this place – which isn't a lot – anything could be a lot of things," Sam said ominously.

"Yeah," was all Dean had. They sighed, picked a direction and set off.

SNSNSN

"This is wrong."

Sera had been slowing down their momentum with each turn down a hallway and John was getting frustrated, both by the fact that they weren't getting very far very fast but also that it had been too damn easy thus far.

"It's too damn easy…" Sera said, pausing again.

"Would you stop that?" John said, wishing his thoughts could be his own again.

"Stop what?" Sera said, seemingly unaware that she had voiced exactly what John had been thinking. "All I'm saying is this place is…well, we should have …been…oh crap."

"What?"

"It's a test. It's a damn test to see what I would do. That's what he does, he's tests, always. We're just his little mice in his whacked-out maze and he's just dying to see how we'll react to his stimuli – and you, YOU were a giant-ass piece of gouda."

"Sera…"

"Don't you get it? He knew! He knew I was just looking for way out, a chance to get away and I fell for it. God, I am so stupid! We're not getting out of here! We're just another stupid test!!"

Sera's voice grew louder with her exasperation and John, wanting her to be quiet on the off chance she was wrong but feeling quite certainly that she was right, began formulating a new plan for their unavoidable recapture.

"You son of a bitch!!" Sera yelled out to the walls. "You wanna play with me? Fine! Come and take me head on! Have the sack to take me on directly, you miserable, sadistic, decrepit piece of …"

Suddenly the halls lit up with bright florescent lighting as the crackle of a speaker came on.

"It was only a matter of time, my dear, though I'm surprised you bided your time as long as you did," taunted Victor.

Suddenly one of the walls began to slide sideways, exposing a small room behind a glass shield within which sat their captor.

"I was never unmonitored, was I," Sera, asked, clearly defeated. "You watched my every move, the whole time."

"Of course, my pet. You are far too trusting, but so very endearing. I wanted you, needed you to believe that I deemed you special, and you are, you are," cooed Victor. "But still you are my pet. My very lovely, nurturing, tamed pet."

"I guess I am," Sera said sadly. "How foolish of me to ever think otherwise. I'm glad I've been of such amusement to you."

John would have given his right arm to break through that glass and throttle the bastard, but sure enough around the corners at each end came several heavily armed guards. He looked at Sera, believing he would see only sorrow and surrender in her eyes reflecting the sadness in her voice. But instead he saw anger. Pure, unadulterated hatred, but only in her eyes. Her body didn't betray the rage clearly building in her. That she kept soft, shoulders slumped, head slightly bowed.

But in her eyes, John swore he saw red. Blood red. And he once again felt a glimmer of hope.


	11. Game On

**Chapter Ten – Game On**

_Losers_.

Howard Erksine sat in his dark surveillance room, a dozen monitors before him displaying various prisoners, the recapture of the witch and the hunter in the south passageway and of course, the two guys out on the grounds.

He'd watched the whole (chuckle) "battle" between them and the gremlins – Howard's personal favorites from the collection – and had laughed out loud at the young hunters' pathetic attempts to beat them. He'd wanted to let his little beasties have a bit more fun with them but had his orders: the Winchesters were to be kept alive and in fair shape for further observation. So he threw on the flood lights and chased the gremlins away. Now he just watched as the boys made their way through the woods and on toward the compound.

"Pathetic showing, boys," he said to Sam and Dean as he watched. "Ain't gonna last five seconds from what I just saw." He scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and chuckled again.

The door behind him opened and Fitzpatrick entered, immediately grimacing at the state of utter clutter the room was in.

"You get one piece of food stuck in this equipment and your head's gonna be mounted to the office wall."

"I am very careful not to spill," Howard retorted, but quickly swept crumbs and trash into the can below the console.

"So how are they doing?" Fitzpatrick asked, looking to the Winchester monitor.

"Frankly, I don't see what all the fuss is about. These are supposed to be the best? I think the Winchumpsters have been hyped up waaaay too much. Daddy Dearest made it all of, what, two feet before getting busted? And I personally had to save his little brats' tuccuses from the grems. All in all, LOSERS!!" Howard topped off his assessment with an "L" shaped hand gesture to his forehead.

"Yeah, well," was all Fitzpatrick said. To be honest, he agreed – the Winchesters were a bust in his book, too, but damned if he would ever openly agree with the Howard. The nerd would never let him hear the end of it, then he'd end up beating Howard to a pulp just to shut him up, then he'd have that mess to clean up and he didn't want the hassle. "What quadrant are they in now?"

"Uh," Howard stalled as he quickly typed up the coordinates for the back woods. "A-9."

"Good," Fitzpatrick said. "Boss wants them separated to see how they handle that. Think you can handle that?" he said in a very condescending tone. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and left the room.

"_Think you can handle that_," Howard said in a babyish, mocking tone. "Putz." He began typing in commands to the keyboard. "One separate assault coming up." He looked to the screen and smiled. "Hope you boneheads like doggies. Round two: Ding!"

Howard hit the "Enter" key.

SNSNSN

Sam and Dean continued on for several minutes without incidence. Their last compass check told them they were heading northwest, which is where they believed the backside entrance to the compound was. The sound of a river was growing louder off to their right and they hoped it would stay there and not cut across their path, forcing an eventual crossing.

"Hey, you think we should text Bobby and let him know where we're at?" Sam asked when they stopped for a breather.

"Good idea," Dean agreed. "What are the coordinates?" he asked as he got his phone out of his pocket.

"Uh," Sam stalled as he referred to the compass, which before had worked perfectly but now only displayed a dancing needle. "Something's screwing with the compass."

Dean slammed the phone in frustration. Probably the same crap that's messing with service. I can't get a signal."

"That's not good."

"Ya think?"

"Well, we should prob…" Sam suddenly quieted.

Dean, seeing Sam probably heard something, stilled himself and listened. Sure enough, rustling could be heard coming from bushes up ahead.

"If that's munchkins, leprechauns or pygmies I'm done," said Dean.

"Pygmies?"

"You saw _The Mummy Returns_!"

"Right," Sam agreed, remembering the scene.

Dean reloaded his shotgun and handed shells to Sam, who loaded up his own gun. Their heads snapped up as they heard a loud growl come from in front of them: three wolf-like creatures made their presence known and approached the boys. Dean and Sam both reached for their waistbands and pulled their guns with the silver rounds, packing up the shotguns quickly and standing.

"Game on," Dean said, cocking the pistol.

The trio of wolves separated, two going to each side, the third coming for a frontal assault. Dean shot at the first, keeping the one to his left in site while Sam fired at the one to his right. Dean's shot hit its target but failed to be a kill shot and the beast crashed hard into him, knocking him off further to the left and away from Sam. It quickly spun around and went after Sam, who managed to turn and shoot just in time, nailing the beast in the heart and sending it to the ground in a heap. Unfortunately, his initial shot at the third wolf also missed the heart and it had managed to circle around and come between him and Dean.

"Dean, I think they're trying to separate us!" Sam yelled as the beast before him snarled and crept toward him, perched for attack.

But there was no response from Dean. Sam quickly shifted his site back and forth between the wolf and beyond it to where dean had been. What he saw horrified him. The wolf was knocking into Dean again and again, pushing him further off into the distance. And with each blow, Dean was taking longer to get up. _At least he's getting up_, Sam assured himself.

The snarling before him brought his eyes back to the threat at hand and he cocked his gun again. Wasting no more time, Sam pressed the trigger but before the discharge, something grabbed him from behind and he felt fiery pain as claws dug into his shoulders.

Turns out these weren't ordinary werewolves. The silver bullets weren't killing them after all, just stunning them. The third wolf dragged Sam back as the second stayed if front, making sure their prey didn't escape. Sam bit through the pain and struggled to keep his hand on the gun but felt his arms numbing. He could also hear the sound of the river growing louder as he was apparently being dragged to it. _Oh hell no_, Sam thought as he figured they were planning on tossing him in for a swim.

SNSNSN

Meanwhile, Dean had had just about enough of being a wolf-bitch's bumper car. He, too, had concluded that these wolf-like things weren't werewolves when he'd caught glimpse of the third wolf rise up behind Sam. He'd desperately wanted to shout out warning to his brother but the third slam by his own creature had winded him and he figured the best way to help Sam was to stay alive and take it out, then go back to help – if it wasn't too late.

The wolf slammed into him again and Dean went down hard again. Clearly the bitch was playing with him. Why wasn't it killing him? Why hadn't the gremlins? _They want us alive_, he thought. _Doesn't mean their not going to let us get knocked around, clearly_…he thought as he took yet another hit.

Needing a minute to think, Dean did not get up. He instead stayed still on the ground and waited to see what the thing would do. To his surprise, it just stood and waited. _My move, bitch?_ Dean thought. _Alrighty then_. With his left arm, hidden from view, Dean reached for the knife at his waist and waited.

What seemed like minutes went by, neither opponent making a move. Fed up with waiting, the wolf started moving closer to dean, leery of any sudden attack. Dean listed to the approaching footsteps and prepped. _ Come on_, he mentally prodded. _Come on…_

When he could hear – hell, feel – the creature's breath just inches, Dean rolled toward it and struck out with the knife, plunging it into its forehead. The creature howled for a second, then dropped dead to the ground. Dean collapsed back on his back and breathed, spent. But only for a minute. After all, he had a brother to save.

SNSNSN

The third wolf had let go of Sam, leaving him to collapse to the ground. Fortunately despite the killer grip, the creature's claws hadn't dug in too deep, just enough to keep hold. Sam slowly go to his feet as the wolf pair teamed up before him and edged forward, inching him closer to the steep river bank they had finally reached. Sam dared to look behind him and chilled as he saw the raging water below. Looking back to the wolves, they were a mere few feet from him, their intention clear.

Sam weighed his options. He could take his chances and jump, though it wasn't a straight drop down, but more of a slope. He'd have to have a running start to jump out and down, and he didn't have that, so it would be a risk. But at least he'd go down on his own terms. As the wolves took another step forward, Sam made his choice. He turned took the few precious steps the ledge allowed him, and leapt.

He didn't hear his brother's frantic call to him from behind.

SNSNSN

"SAM!!!" Dean cried out as he watched his brother's desperate leap of the river ledge. He'd seen the situation Sam had been in with the two wolves and probably would have made the same choice, but it didn't make the situation any less dire, less heartbreaking. Dean didn't know how far the drop-off was, how deep and fast the river below, there were too many unknown variables. And Dean hated not knowing his brother's fate.

With a mad, warrior yell, Dean drew his guns and ran toward the wolves, firing furiously at both, aiming for the head and hopefully, kill shots. Sure enough, one went down as the bullet hit its mark. The other, badly wounded, opted not to meet the same fate, ran off.

Dean reached the ledge and looked down, not seeing Sam anywhere. He searched frantically, trying to see a way down, but it wasn't possible without making the same frantic leap. And if Dean got hurt or worse doing so, he'd once again be no help to his brother. Taking one last look down and around, he sadly turned and walked away from the ledge and sought another way down.

He continued along the bank, keeping careful eye out for any sign of Sam. Seeing a possible lessening of the slope ahead, he began to ran toward it. But as neared it, the ground beneath him suddenly gave way and he found himself falling down into a deep hole … and darkness.

SNSNSN

Back in the surveillance room, a certain voyeuristic computer geek popped open a Dr. Pepper and took a big, hearty swig.

"Round Three. Ding!"


	12. Sometimes You Need a Moment

**Author's Note****: **_**Thanks for sticking with/joining this story, friends! I'm reaching a critical action-packed part of the story and would love your input (i.e. reviews) of how you think it's going (LOVE reviews!). Also, I'm kind of running out of ideas for creatures within the compound for our Heroes to confront/fight and would love some direction if you have any. Feel free to offer guidance, but I'm happy to just get some encouragement to press on. Thanks!**_

**Chapter Eleven – Sometimes You Need a Moment**

Collapsing on the river bank, soaked and cold to the core, Sam once again could not believe this was his life.

At his age, he should be thinking about prom, deciding what girl to ask. He should be thinking about finals and being stupid at kegger parties. Hanging out with friends. Hell, he should be prepping for his scholarship submission to Stanford.

Not lying by the side of a river, miraculously alive after jumping off a 30-foot cliff into a raging river to avoid being torn to shreds by werewolves or whatever the hell those things were. This was not the life of a normal 17-year-old.

But when was he ever normal? Would he ever be normal, have normal?

He knew he should get up, find a way to get back to Dean, to the compound and his father but for the life of him he just couldn't move. Not because of injury. He wasn't hurt at all, despite the hard landing into the water. He just wanted a moment, one freakin' moment to feel sorry for himself. To rue his cursed existence. To wish for a different life. One moment.

So there he lie, looking up at the night sky, the river raging on beside him. It probably wasn't safe to not be on the alert, but he didn't care. Anything could be lurking, stalking nearby, but he didn't care. His father could be dead, Dean too, maybe, for all he knew, but in this one moment, he just didn't care.

But then he thought again about Dean and immediately felt bad for feeling that way about his brother. It wasn't Dean's fault they led this life. Dean had always done so much, worked so hard to give Sam a taste of normal when he could, even if most times it was in secret or while their father was away on a hunt. A movie here, a ball game there. Dean was an amazing big brother, and of course Sam cared what happened to him.

So, pity party for one over. Time to get back to the job.

Sam stood slowly, making sure that his earlier assessment of not being hurt was correct. He was sore and very wet and cold, but not hurt. Fortunately, he'd slung his duffel over his shoulder before the frantic leap and had managed to hold onto the bag during his impromptu swim so at least he wasn't completely unarmed.

He looked back up the cliffside which was still fairly steep despite being down river quite a ways. Sam figured he was still within the confines of the compound but wondered how monitored this part of it would be. The cliff was too steep to climb, so he started heading back up river, hoping to find some kind of path up. Unfortunately the river was too loud for him to hear the sounds of the woods around him, so he'd have to be extra alert for anything nearby. _Spidey sense would be really good to have right now_, he smiled to himself. He thought about trying to contact Dean with the cell but he didn't want to potentially alert anything to Dean's position. Besides, the phone was currently waterlogged and not presently working. He knew Dean was probably looking for him but hoped his brother wouldn't endanger himself doing so. But of course, when did Dean ever put his own safety above Sam's?

As he continued along the bank, Sam thought he saw something that resembled a large storage drain up ahead. As he got closer, he found that indeed it was. He approached the opening slowly, ready in case something was standing guard, but his luck seemed to be holding out – the opening was clear. Digging out his flashlight, he shown it into the drain and found it was big enough for him to crawl through. He was pretty sure it led back into the compound – where else could it be from? – but would have to take the chance without being a hundred percent sure. There were no other options, not unless he wanted to continue to walk further up or down river where he might be spotted or find no other ways up the slope.

Taking a breath to center himself, he crawled inside.

SNSNSN

"They're fine."

John looked over at Sera, who had been silent ever since their recapture. On Victor's order, they had been taken to a large, arena-like room where John figured their next "contest" would take place. He was relieved they'd been kept together but had been concerned over Sera's silence, not knowing her well enough to anticipate her next move given the amount of rage that had radiated off of her earlier and also not sure if the binding spell was still in place, if not heightened.

"I don't know."

"What?" John asked.

"I don't know my next move. I don't know what he's going to do to us, and yes, the spell is still in place so maybe you shouldn't be so relieved."

"I see you're not curbing the mind-reading anymore."

Sera glared at him. "Why should I? Why should I let you or anyone else have privacy of thought? Nothing is my own anymore, so why should you be any different? Besides, it's exhausting controlling my abilities all the time so I'm not going to, alright?"

"Okay," John said, understandingly. "What did you mean before, by the way? What's fine?"

"Your sons."

John's heart leapt. Of course he'd been worried to death about them and been hoping Victor, in his supremacy, would have let him know how Sam and Dean were fairing, but with no word yet he'd forced himself to push his boys to the back of his mind, trusting in their abilities and training to keep them safe. "They're okay?"

"I told you they were," Sera snapped.

"Where are they?"

"On the grounds somewhere."

"Are they close? Are they hurt?"

"I don't know, okay? They're alive, that's all I know," she snapped again.

"Serenity, I know you're angry and I don't blame you, but taking it out on me isn't going to help either of us. We need to stick together."

"Why?" she asked, exasperated. "You still think we're gonna get out of here? You're deluding yourself."

"Maybe I am, but one thing I know for sure is that we won't get out if we give up. Personally, if I'm going down I'm going down fighting. And before that I'm sure as hell going to make sure my boys are okay. I'm not giving up on them, so don't give up on me just yet, okay?"

Sera looked at him, the smirk on his handsome face an earnest, even playful one, and she smiled back.

"Think you can get another message to them?" John asked.

Sera closed her eyes and, with a deep breath, reached out to try and link with John's sons, but had trouble locking onto to both of them.

"I don't think they're together," she said, straining.

"What? How can you tell?"

"The connection isn't as strong as it was before."

"Could it be the binding spell?"

"I don't think so, it just feels like they're not together."

"Can you reach one of them?"

"I can tr…"

But just then, the door to the room opened.

SNSNSN

The drain seemed endless. Sam had been crawling for what seemed like half an hour at a steadily increasing incline but had not reached any kind of internal outlet. As he stopped a moment to rest, he couldn't help but think about Andy Dufrane in _The Shawshank Redemption_. He'd had to crawl the length of five football fields, but that had been through raw sewage, so Sam was incredibly thankful his tunnel seemed to be just a regular water main. As he started up again, he though about what Dean and his dad were up to. He wished he'd seen Dean take down the wolf attacking him so that he'd know he was okay, but that wasn't the case. But he knew his brother and what he was capable of and he believed he'd know if anything bad had happened to him. They just had that kind of connection.

But he didn't have that connection with his father. They had become more and more distant the last few years as Sam protested their lifestyle more and more. At first he'd kept his dislike of the family business to himself, somewhat fearing his father's backlash. Then he'd become more vocal to Dean, but being the dutiful son Dean was, he hadn't gotten much sympathy there. So at last Sam had begun openly debating – okay, arguing—with his father, not longer afraid to voice his opinions. But his aspirations for college and a future away from hunting he still kept to himself. That would reap a new kind of wrath Sam wasn't quite ready to face.

Again, other normal 17-year-olds probably couldn't wait to tell their parents how their teachers unanimously recommended them for scholarships, told them they could have their choice of any top school in the country. For others, that was an achievement of merit. But not in the Winchester household. Between a full ride to an Ivy League school and bagging your first banshee, John would exalt the latter and scoff the former._ Really messed up, Dad_, Sam sighed. But he knew his old man would never change and it would be a conversation they were just going to have to have.

But first John had to be alive for such a conversation to take place, and Sam just didn't know if he was. Brought back to the present, Sam started up again.

He went on about another 10 minutes when the drain seemed to branch off, one direction staying level, the other sloping upward steeply. The choice was made when Sam could see light up toward the top. Thunderous cheering and applauding also seemed to be echoing through the new tunnel as well. He quickened his pace as best he could, carefully making his way up the shaft, and as he got closer to the top the light and the cheers grew louder. The vent system he now seemed to be in began splitting off into various new tunels with light and sound coming from all offshoots. Having no way of determining the best path, he opted for left and continued on.

As he went along, Sam saw grates in the bottom of the vents leading to chambers below. He carefully and quietly approached the first, though stealth really wasn't necessary being that it was so loud in the drain now from the thunderous cheering coming from the arena below. He peered through the grate and beheld a bloody brawl going on between what looked like a rawhead and one of his friendly wolf-like creatures. What he didn't see were any live spectators. The cheers seemed to be emanating from several speakers next to large monitors hanging on the walls. _Fans from afar_, Sam surmised. It would seem the Collector televised his competitions for avid enthusiasts via satellite. _How industrious_, Sam thought. _Maybe he could pitch it to FOX: American Gladiators – Underworld Edition. _He'd have to remember to share that with Dean, sure his big brother would get a kick out of it. His attention again focused to finding Dean, he continued on.

Three more grates and three more contest-laden arenas later, Sam came across another split and this time opted for right. He came to a darkened grate and thought it might be time to leave the vent behind. He knew he'd be at greater risk of detection, but he just couldn't determine how far the vent system went and in how many more offshoots. And this room below was the only unoccupied one he'd come across so far and there was no guarantee of another, so it was a calculated risk he was just going to have to take.

Carefully prying the grate loose, he waited to see if an alarm would go off. When none did – at least a non-silent one – he dropped down into the room below.

Not wanting to switch on a light unnecessarily, Sam used his flashlight to take in the room around him. Now, in his long experience as a Winchester, it was often thought that if his family didn't have bad luck, they wouldn't have any luck at all. Well, with what Sam beheld in the tiny room around him, he might have believed then and there that he was adopted, because Sam Winchester found himself surrounded by wall-to-wall weapons: knives, swords, cattle prods, maces, crossbows.

Sam had dropped down into an armory. Well, at least now if he got detected, he could at least put up one hell of a fight. _Now, let's see …_ Sam thought as he began laundry-listing what he should take.

_**Again, reviews welcome! Thanks!**_


	13. Game On, Part Two

**Chapter 12 – Game On, Part Two**

Despite not wanting to give the entering figure the satisfaction of knowing he intimidated them, both Sera and John stepped back from Fitzgerald, who strode into their cell, cattle prod as always in hand.

John tried to push thoughts of Sam and Dean to the back of his mind. He was worried, sure, but at least Sera had given him peace of mind that they were alive. He wished he knew more, could warn them somehow. On the one hand, part of him was happy to have them close by. But on the other, he highly doubted they'd just managed to break into the compound on their own, though skilled as they are. They were likely being tested by Victor as well, and that infuriated John. It was bad enough that he had become a human lab rat. It enraged him to no end to think his sons had become the same.

But if he could get away, find them, that could give them the family the upper hand they needed to escape, regroup, and return to shut this hellhole down for good. If he knew his boys, they'd already connected with Bobby or Joshua and the cavalry would be on the way to help. It would just be a matter of timing.

There was one more positive aspect to seeing Fitzgerald standing before him: at least the bastard wasn't out hunting the boys.

Two more men came in behind Fitzgerald who John recognized as other guards. Outnumbered, it was once again time to wait and look for the opportunity to take them out. John held his ground, fists clenched as Fitzgerald made his way over to Sera. He could see her stiffen but hold her ground as well, showing no fear. _Good for her_.

"Little escape plan didn't work, I see," he said to her, though oddly without the taunting smirk and condescending tone John had come to expect.

"Get credit for trying though, don't I?" Sera responded.

"A+ as always, Doc," he said with a smile.

Suddenly Sera's expression changed as something flashed in Fitzgerald's eyes. Before she could say anything, Fitzgerald put a finger to his lips and gave a quick nod to the guard to his left. The man, who stood beneath the corner camera, took out a small remote and pointed it at the camera. A slight click could be heard and the guard on the right began to remove the duffel he had on his shoulder.

"It's okay, we can talk freely now," Fitzgerald said as he went for the duffel and began unloading several guns, knives and other remotes.

"Clive?" Sera asked incredulously. "I can't believe it. How did you…"

"I'll fill you in later. Right now we gotta move. Winchester, right?" he said to John.

Seeing John's dumfoundedness, Sera filled him in. "This is Clive. Shapeshifter, in case you haven't guessed."

Clive held out his hand to shake John's. _Now this is getting weird_, John thought to himself as he shook the shifter's – who still wore Fitzgerald's face – hand.

"Weird, right? Bet you never thought you'd be on the same side as one of my kind. The short of it is, when I heard about your little albeit temporary break out, figured the time had come to make our move. And I wasn't about to leave you behind," he said to Sera. "Doc here has patched me up more times than I can count. I owe her. What the hell were you thinking trying to break out on your own? You know better."

"Uh, first of all I had no idea you and others were in the works trying to do the same thing and second I had him," Sera motioned to John.

"Fair enough. Guess I should have tried to contact you telepathically, but I wasn't sure how well your mojo was working."

"It's not, for the most part," Sera admitted.

"Where's the real Fitzgerald and these other guards?" John asked, taking a couple of the guns and knives and securing them to his person.

"The guards are taken care of," Clive responded. "As for Fitzgerald, we tried to get to him but he's off looking for a couple of intruders. I think you know who," he directed at John.

"Do you know where they are?"

"Don't know about your youngest, but your oldest is in a heap of trouble. I suggest you get to him while Sera and I go after Victor."

"I'm not going to be much help to you with the binding spell still in place," Sera said.

"Then I guess we'll just have to unbind you," Clive said with a wink.

"How many others are with us," John asked.

"Six," Clive answered. "Us three plus Pacer, Donovan and Mook."

"A skinwalker, a vampire and a ghoul. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke," Sera said with a chuckle. "How'd you get Mook to join?"

"Promised him a full run of the 'buffet' when we win," Clive said with a chuckle of his own.

"Just make sure it's not us," John said practically.

"So what's the plan?" Sera asked.

"Well, we've got short-range control of the cameras in the immediate vicinity. That'll help get us to Erksine. Once we have that, we'll have complete surveillance control."

"Think Howie will comply?"

"Once I threaten to make him Mook's appetizer, I'm sure he'll cooperate just fine."

Everyone cocked their guns and set out.

SNSNSN

Fitzgerald was thoroughly pissed. He knew the Winchesters had a reputation for being excellent hunters but he never thought any of them would get an upper hand, especially in his own back yard. The father had proved predictable, which led to the ease of his recapture. The older kid was right where the boss wanted him. But the younger kid had somehow slipped off the radar. After his mad leap into the river – Fitz had to give the kid props for that – he'd expected to pick him back up but so far nothing. He knew the brat wouldn't just bail on his family – wasn't their way. So he had to be here somewhere. But where…

Fitz had Erksine buff up all internal sensors, cameras and overall surveillance but the guy was a tool and Fitz didn't want to rely solely on the oft-unreliable technology – several cameras had temporarily blinked out recently. So Fitz set out on his own hunt for the kid. He actually looked forward to the encounter. He hadn't had a good sparring in a while and he was curious about the kind of fighter the great John Winchester had molded his son into. Maybe he'd test out the kid's moves, before inevitably knocking him out, of course.

SNSNSN

Feeling like he'd just finished a battle-readying montage from a Schwarzenegger film, Sam debated his next move. Armed to the hilt, he could probably work his way through the corridors, but certainly not without drawing massive attention to himself. Deciding that his airshaft had been kind in keeping his presence known (as far as he hoped, anyway), he decided to make his way through them. It seemed to give him access to a good deal of the compound and Sam figured the next best thing was to find Dean, or his father, or both.

Making sure his body armory was secure – the swords he'd strapped to his back were cumbersome but overall deemed necessary – he pulled himself back into the vent and started out again.

SNSNSN

Fitz stopped outside of WC3 (Weapons Cell 3) after he thought he heard something inside. Cocking his tranq rifle, he punched in the code, slowly turned the knob, then kicked the door open forcefully, rifle at the ready.

What greeted him was a very shocked technician who dropped his clipboard and pen and shot his arms up into the air with a startled scream. "Don't shoot! Please! I'm not armed!"

"What are you doing in here?" Fitz shouted, annoyed.

"In…invent..t…t..tory?" the tech squeaked out.

Fitz lowered his rifle. "Well get to it then," he snapped, closing the door and trying to block out the fact that the kid inside had just peed himself.

SNSNSN

The first thing Dean realized when he regained consciousness was that it was dark. Next, he was lying on his back on the ground. Third, he hurt. Not the kind of hurt that meant anything was broken, just the kind that felt like he'd taken a ride in a clothes dryer. He thought back to how he'd reached his current position and it all came back to him: the wolves, Sam's leap off the cliff, the damn rabbit hole in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't sure how far he'd fallen, just that it hadn't been a straight drop. He'd kind of fallen straight, then rolled down through a long, sloped tunnel and finally dropped out for another medium fall to the ground. He sat up slowly and checked for his weapons. Unfortunately during his little trip he'd managed to lose his gun, but his ankle knife was still in place.

He stood and tried to see if there was any kind of light that could help indicate the size of the room he was in. It was quiet except for a steady hum, like a generator, and occasional clanking, like metal pipes. And that sound was echoing, which meant the room was fairly large and somewhat empty. Unsure of whether anyone knew he was here, he listened for some other sound and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He didn't have to wait long as the room was suddenly flooded with light which temporarily blinded him. Shielding his eyes with his arm, he slowly let them adjust and when he could finally see again, he took in his surroundings.

_Crap_.

SNSNSN

Clive, Sera, John and the two guards, who John learned were Pete and Bolster, also shifters, made there way to WC9, where Clive quickly punched in the code and let them into the armory. Each began to arm up.

"How did you manage to get the code?" Sera asked.

"Shapeshifters often acquire the memories and knowledge of the people they shift into," John answered before Clive.

"Very good, Winchester. Unfortunately there's a hell of a lot in here I wish I didn't have," Clive said, tapping his head. "Fitzy is one sadistic sonofabitch and seriously needs to get laid real bad."

"Clive!" Sera said with a grimace.

"What?" Clive asked with a shrug.

"Listen, I've got to find my boys. You said Dean is in trouble. What did you mean?"

"I overheard that he's become the highlighted attraction for the day. Managed to fall into the main arena, so Victor has decided to take advantage of the situation. Honestly speaking, how good is your boy?"

"Why?"

"Cause with what he's going up against, he'd better be better than you."

John did not like the sound of that. "How do I get to the main arena?"

"Bolster will show you," Clive said, handing one of the remotes to the shifter, along with what looked like a pager. "Give us a few minutes to get control of the surveillance chamber, then I'll signal you when it's okay to move."

"I don't have that kind of time," John said adamantly.

"Make time!" Clive said. "You'll be no good to your boy if you get caught and I guarantee you you won't get another opp for escape, you hear me? Victor's amusement and patience only go so far. So you wait for my signal, you got me?"

John nodded.

"Let's go."

Bolster closed the door behind Clive, Sera and Pete and John continued gathering up arms.

SNSNSN

"Welcome, Dean Winchester. I've been greatly looking forward to meeting you."

Dean looked up to locate the origin of the thundering voice. The chamber he was in was massive, with walls made of solid iron about a third of the way up and topped off with glass rooms, like premiere boxes at a sports arena. And within those sat people, lots of people, all staring down at him.

"Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that," Dean answered, trying to cover up his unease with bravado.

"I've enjoyed watching your father in combat but you have quite a reputation yourself, one that is beginning to rival his, and I anticipate seeing your skills first hand."

"So that's how you get your rocks off, huh? Well, I guess at your age not much else is gonna do the trick, though there is this little thing called Viagra," Dean shot back. "So what's it gonna be, huh? I mean you got your whole freak show collection to choose from, right?" Dean stalled, looking around to see if the bastard would provide him with any kind of weapon.

"Oh, I have something very special in mind for you, Mr. Winchester."

Dean's bravado suddenly melted away as a very loud, booming sound came from his right. What had appeared like a wall was actually a door. A very large door. And it was slowly and menacingly opening.

_Crap frickin double crap_.

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	14. Winchesters, Ho!

**Chapter 13 – Winchesters, Ho!**

Though only minutes, it felt like forever to John before he and Bolster received a signal from Clive and Sera. They had successfully secured Erksine and the surveillance lab and were making their way to Victor's office to hopefully release the binding spell on Sera. John and Bolster then set out, each with their own mission: Bolster would rendezvous with the others and find a way out; John would track down Sam and Dean, then get them out, but not before setting up a little take-down action of his own.

During their stay in the weapons cell, John had packed a duffel full of explosive charges and detonators. Every third corridor on his way to the main chamber, he set one to full detonation to be sure that, when he got through with the compound, not a brick would be left in tact. Compound map in hand, he continued on to the main arena and, hopefully, his sons.

SNSNSN

Continuing along the shaft, Sam was frustrated by his need to proceed slowly. Every few moments, he'd have to stop and freeze, seeing guards in the corridor below. They all seemed to be heading to the same place, chatting up with great excitement what was sure to be "the match of the century." Some were even placing bets on "the kid pulling a major Balboa."

_Dean._

Screw stealth, Sam thought to himself, on the move once again. If he was right, his brother was going to need him, and fast. He continued on, the thunderous cheers growing louder up ahead.

SNSNSN

Sera and Clive got into Victor's office surprisingly easily. Seems everyone was off to watch Vic's latest contest.

"Imagine that, a match working in our favor," Clive commented as he shut the door behind him.

"Not in John's, I would imagine," Sera answered. "His son is the main attraction."

"Crap," Clive said, and hurried about searching for the binding charm.

As luck would again have it, he didn't have to look long, for Sera went right to a small, unassuming corner cabinet.

"Uno," she said with a smile, opening the lid, light shining on her face from within.

SNSNSN

Dean tensed and stood at the ready as he watched the massive iron door before him slowly slide upward and open. He swallowed deep as he heard a thunderous roar come from the other side and knew that whatever was behind that door could not be good. He glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon, his eyes falling on a particularly large white bat-like staff. As he picked it up, he realized it was a bone. A human leg bone.

Swallowing again, he dared a look back to the door which was now nearly open to the top.

That's when he saw it.

It was ginormous. Had to be at least 20 feet high and 10 feet wide. Solid, massive, hairy, talons like giant sickles, in all ways grotesque. And it looked mean. Very mean.

_Somebody has definitely seen Return of the Jedi one too many times_, Dean thought as he pitched his eyes upward to behold the face of the … troll? … before him. He caught sight of the two black, beady eyes staring down (okay, way down) at him but just couldn't take his eyes off the creature's enormous jowl filled with oh so very many large, sharp teeth. _Oh, jeez, I think its actually smiling at me_. _Where the hell's Luke Skywalker when you need him?_

Dean's thoughts drifted worriedly to Sam, always Luke to his Han. Dean had no idea what had happened to his brother after losing sight of him by the river. One minute they were hot on their father's trail in the woods, the next Dean found himself falling into a dirt chute underground, coming to a jarring stop at the bottom – the large round chamber in which he now found himself, apparently about to do battle with the monstrous creature before him and having no clue how the pathetic human club he held was going to get him through this.

_Options, options, I need options_ Dean chanted in his head. _David, he took Goliath down with a stone._ Looking at the creature's head, which looked to be made of solid rock, he didn't think that would work. _Plan B. Okay, Return of the Jedi, Luke used the door to crush the beast._ Dean looked to the chamber behind the troll and didn't count out the possibility. As he contemplated a Plan C, the creature advanced on him. By instinct Dean backed up until his back hit the wall. Suddenly he couldn't think of anything but the enormous claw reaching for him.

_Well, this sucks,_ Dean chuckled at what could quite possibly be his last thought in life.

Suddenly the creature reared its head back and cried out in what Dean would swear was pain. As he looked around, he caught glimpse of a figure standing behind it with something in its hands. _I'd know that figure anywhere. Sam!_ Dean's mind screamed.

Sure enough, Sam had come up behind the creature and stabbed it in the leg with what appeared to be a large sword.

"Dean, get out of there!"

SNSNSN

Turns out Sam didn't have much further to go and before he knew it, he was right above the far corner of the outer chamber to the main arena. What he never expected to find – and took a moment to believe what he was seeing below him – was the largest, most monstrous creature he'd ever seen, heard about, dreamed about and/or only seen in movies. He was only feet above its head and could feel intense warmth radiating off it. It was grumbling and looked … impatient? … like it really wanted to get to whatever was on the other side of the giant door before it.

_Whatever, my ass. Dean's on the other side_, Sam knew without question.

As he tried to figure out how to slip out of the vent and below without alerting the creature, the giant door suddenly began to open, the muffled cheers beyond it growing in clarity and volume. The creature bellowed out a ground-shuttering roar that echoed deafeningly throughout the chamber. Sam took advantage of the noise, opened the vent and dropped down to the jagged ledge just feet below him.

Making his way carefully to the ground, he pulled the two swords sheathed to his back and looked between the creature's giant legs into the adjacent arena. And, for a flash, saw Dean, who had his back against the far wall, some kind of club in his hands. _Yeah, like that would work, bro_, Sam chuckled.

With a centering breath, Sam, sword at the ready, charged at the creature's leg.

"Dean, get out of there!"

SNSNSN

The moment Dean heard Sam shout his name, Dean was on the move, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to run beneath the creature to his brother's side. Sam handed Dean a second sword and both men braced themselves as the now seriously pissed off creature turned to face them.

"What the hell took you so long, Sundance?" Dean asked with a laugh. He couldn't help it. The scene before them was beyond absurd.

"Traffic was a bitch, Butch," Sam replied, adding his own chuckle. They'd been in some crap situations before but this was just plain ridiculous.

The creature howled at the pain in its leg and looked down at the two tiny insects beneath it. He watched as they backed up in unison, raising sharp, pointed things toward it in a united front. It let out a horrifying sound that the Winchesters would swear was its form of a laugh.

With a small nod to each other, they readied themselves against the beast. "On three?" Dean asked, sword pitched upward. Sam, his own sword in hand, complied.

"One, two …"

SNSNSN

John reached the arena and opened the cell door before him. It was one of the viewing rooms above the main floor and beheld several spectators in, of all things, business suits. Too surprised by John's abrupt entrance, they had no time to react before John laid them all out unconscious. He ran to the glass and looked down, horrified to see his sons, armed only with swords, standing before a giant – make that enormous – beast. He had only seconds to act, so he fired his rifle at the glass, shattering it, then linked a grenade to his crossbow arrow, pulled the pin and fired it point blank at the creatures head. The arrow penetrated the head in the back and a second later, the grenade detonated, blowing half of it away with a large, suckling boom.

SNSNSN

"One, two …"

Suddenly, from up above, Dean and Sam saw heard glass breaking and a moment later, heard a large blast and watched as half of the creature's head explode.

"Hang on to three, I think we may be out of this!" Dean yelled, backing up and pulling Sam with him just as a shower of troll-head rained down before them.

They watch as the creature groaned in its last moment of life, then list and fall sideways, crashing against the side of the chamber and slumping to the ground. The boys looked up and there, standing in one of the cells above, stood John Winchester, crossbow in hand. The three men looked at each other with smiles, frozen for just a moment, basking in the glory of their reunion, before realizing none of them were safe just yet. Dean and Sam watched as John retreated back into the cell, then turned their attention back to the creature before them.

Fortunately, when it fell, it hadn't blocked the entire doorway and Dean and Sam bee-lined for the exit. The cheers above had turned to screams of chaos and fear, though Dean could swear he heard a prominent yell of "NOOOOOO!!!" from Victor.

_Take that, chuckles_, Dean beamed as he followed his brother out of the chamber.

**Reviews? Reviews? Anyone? Bueller?**


	15. The Great Escape

**Chapter 14 – The Great Escape**

Victor was pissed. His perfect little world was crashing down around him – literally. That troll had (surprisingly) taken months to track down then capture, and John Winchester had taken it down in one swoop. And now the hunter and his menacing sons were on the loose, making their escape. Well, not if he had anything to say about it.

He hobbled back to his office chamber as quickly as he could, all the while trying to reach Fitzpatrick or, hell, anyone on the comlink. But all he got was static. Shouting – along with various screeches, growls and other unworldly sounds – echoed through the corridors and Victor knew his prisoners were all getting out. And would no doubt be coming for him. If he could just reach the chamber …

At last he saw the giant door before him. In his haste, he neglected to notice that he didn't need to enter the code to open it. He rushed in and slammed it behind him, then went straight for the large chest behind his desk. He lifted the top open and frantically searched the contents, not finding what he wanted, needed desperately.

"Looking for this?"

Victor froze. Carefully, he took hold of a jeweled dagger that lay within the chest and, holding it to him, rose to face the witch.

"Looking to leave me so soon, my dear?" he asked, eyeing the small box Sera held in her hand.

"Not without saying goodbye," Sera answered with a coy grin. "I figure I owe you that much."

She suddenly threw out a hand and with great mental force pushed Victor up and against the wall, relishing in the whoosh that blew out of him. Remarkable he held onto the dagger, though it was no longer hidden.

"Well, actually, I owe you a lot more than that."

She approached him slowly, taking in the tormentor's helplessness.

"Sera, you got this?" Clive asked.

"Oh, don't worry about us,"she answered calmly, not taking her eyes off of Victor. "Victor and I are going to have a nice little chat." She grinned bigger and Victor, thoroughly desperate, actually looked to Clive for help.

"Don't be long. I got a feeling Winchester's got this place rigged to blow up like a roman candle." And with that, he left.

"What's this, a present for me?" Sera cooed, eyeing the dagger clutched in Victor's hand.

"Serenity, you have always been special to me. I have treated you better than any of the others. And I know it is not within you to hurt me. Release me now and we can go our separate ways, each be free. I know a secret way out of here, then you'll never see me again."

"It would be that easy for you, would it? To just walk away from this, all you've built, cherished. The power you've held over so many, the control. Do you plan to just slink away, find a nice quiet corner of the world, wait a while, then start all over again? Is that your plan, Vic?"

"No, no I wouldn't …"

With another wave of her hand, Sera muted him.

"Ah, Victor, "she tsked. "Should I leave you here, helpless, ripe for the slaughter that awaits you? The natives are loose and hungry for blood, you see." She paused. "Can you hear them? They're coming for you. Should I let them have you? Or should I end you myself?" She removed the dagger from his hand. "Take this pretty little blade and put it straight into your cold, dead heart? Tell me, what should I do?"

Victor actually took a moment to ponder the choice, but just as he was to plead for his life again, the door burst open and five angry beasts barged into the room, fangs bared, talons poised and eyes filled with rage, all pinned on him.

"Looks like the choice has been made for me," Sera said, stroking Victor's cheek with her hand, leaving him with a shiver.

With that she backed away, then turned to the beastly mob.

"He's all yours." And with that, she vanished in a poof of light.

The door slammed shut and the outside corridor blared with a cacophony of growls and one agonized scream.

SNSNSN

John watched as the troll head blew and rained down into the arena below, instantly worried about his boys below. But as he reached the precipice of the room, he saw Dean and Sam, both clear, smile up at him, then head for the exit. An awakening spectator moaned at his feet and with a swift punch, John laid him out again, than ran for the corridor. _Time to blow this popsicle stand_, he thought to himself and as he made his way to the stairwell to meet up with the boys, he prepped the detonators.

As he rounded the corner, his jaw met an iron fist and he went down hard, losing his grip on the device. Shaking the stars from his head, he looked up to find a smug Fitzpatrick looking down at him, cracking his knuckles and gleefully prepping for a smackdown.

"Well, well. I was hoping to come across your little brat, but I guess you'll have to do. For now."

John fought to get up but Fitzpatrick was on him with fierce blow after blow with the occasional kick that prevented him from entirely reaching his feet. Aware of the time restraint, John knew he needed to get in this fight and now or he might never make it out. And knowing that Dean and Sam wouldn't leave without him, the choice was clear. Seeing Fitzpatrick pull back for a particularly brutal punch, John played dirty by swiftly kicking him in the groin. The force of the kick and the subsequent pain brought Fitzpatrick's face right into striking range, and John let loose his own furious barrage of hits. It was definitely on.

SNSNSN

"I think it's this way."

"No, this way looks better."

"No, no I gotta good feeling it's this way!"

"What, are you psychic?"

"Ha ,ha, Sam, very funny, Sam. I'm telling you, it's this way!"

Dean ran into the left corridor, certain that it was the way to rendezvous with their father. Sam, knowing Dean's "my-mind-is-made-up" mode was full on, reluctantly followed.

As they rounded the corner, Dean slid clumsily to a halt, causing Sam to slam into him.

"Dean, what the …"

Sam suddenly saw what made his brother pull up so abruptly. Ahead of them was a mass of creatures – you couldn't even tell what was what in the melee – running straight toward them. Acting quickly, Sam, noticing a nearby, blissfully unlocked door, took a hold of Dean's collar and yanked him into the room.

He slammed the door shut behind them and waited for any number of the beasts to break in after them. After all, fresh hunter meat was clearly ripe for the taking.

But as they collectively waited, their bodies pressed against the door in the hopes of keeping anything out, the attack never came. In fact, the booming sound of the crowd outside quickly died away.

After a minute or two of silence, Dean and Sam shrugged at each other, then Dean carefully cracked the door open to find an empty corridor.

"Let's hear it for self-preservation," Dean said with a chuckle.

"They have the right idea," Sam said, clearly relieved. "We gotta get outta here."

"Oh, yeah, " Dean agreed. "Dad's gotta be working his way down to us. Since everyone –everything's – whatever is running that way (pointing left), we should go this way (pointing right)."

But no sooner had they started up the corridor than another being – human – approached. But was he friend, i.e. a captive, or foe, a Victor crony?

Sam and dean raised their shotguns, poised to fire.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Don't shoot!" the man placated, hands up. "Dean? Sam?"

"Yeah," the boys answered in unison.

"Clive. Good guy, teammate of your dad's."

Dean and Sam looked to each other, but kept the rifles raised.

"Prove it," Dean asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Clive asked, clearly dumbfounded. "Look, just take my friggin' word for it or let me pass. I got work to do before your dad blows us all to kingdom come!"

Clearly that was enough to convince Dean and Sam, for both lowered their guns.

"Where is he?" Dean asked.

"Left him up top. Seemed to have everything under control. I've been trying to open as many of the cells as possible, get everyone out before the big blast."

"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what you're unleashing into the world?" Dean asked incredulously.

"A lot of innocents," Clive bit back, offended. "I know you hunters are pretty bigoted, and yeah, there are bad things out there, but not everything is evil. A lot of decent creatures have been locked up here, tortured, beaten to hell. Do they deserve to go down cause of a few bad apples? You're dad thought the same thing, but I managed to prove him wrong."

"You?" Sam asked, not sure what to think.

"Shapeshifter," Clive answered. "And saved you dad's ass, thank you very much. Along with a witch, a skinwalker, a vampire and a ghoul. Wanna change your mind now, too, sport?" he asked Dean.

Dean didn't know what to say. Everything in him told him to leave as many of the creatures locked up behind to burn, except his gut right in this moment. He looked to Sam and saw that his brother wasn't having nearly as much of a dilemma.

"How can we help?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry about it kid. My friends and I have got it covered, but thanks," Clive said. "Just get your asses out of here or I'll have your dad hunting me down for the rest of my life. And bastard would surely find me, too," he chuckled.

And with a slap to Dean's shoulder, Clive ran off.

"This is too weird," Dean said, still flabbergasted.

"Let's find Dad," Sam said.

Just then, all hell broke loose.


	16. All or Nothing

**Chapter 15 – All or Nothing**

Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed had nothing on John Winchester and Will Fitzpatrick. The latter duo clearly had claim to the balls-out brawl of all time. Blow after blow, neither man was conceding, despite growing fatigue and injury. But the stakes were higher for John and he had a feeling Fitzpatrick was just in it for the joy of kicking his ass. Never mind the growing chaos happening within the compound.

Enough was enough. Time for the combo Dean as a boy had effectively named the Winchester Wallop. As Fitzpatrick attacked, John sidestepped, then pounded a right fist into the side of his opponent's head, then a left to the back of his head. On his way to the ground, John grabbed Fitz's collar and brought his knee up into the man's face, then swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing, unconscious at last, to the ground.

Or so John thought.

As he steadied himself, shook the cobwebs painfully away and went to retrieve the dropped detonator, he could not readily find it. Until he did in the worst place possible.

Fitzpatrick's hand.

The man's eyes practically swollen shot, blood spewing from his nose and mouth, Fitzpatrick still had it in him to laugh as he held the device.

Apparently not needing any stereotypical bad guy taunting of words, Fitz merely laughed and pressed the button, unleashing hell within the compound.

John, as he took off running, could still hear the hearty laugh echoing behind him.

SNSNSN

It wasn't a subtle sound. The booming of the explosives from above them made Dean and Sam stare up in awe moments before diving for cover as the ceiling rained down, the building above literally collapsing around them.

Arms up to protect themselves as much as possible, Sam and Dean made for the room they'd taken shelter in before, remembering the built-in countertops which would hopefully provide some cover. They dove into the room just as the corridor ceiling collapsed further, filling the hall with fire and debris.

Coughing and aching, Dean and Sam took stock of themselves then each other. Miraculously, neither was hurt beyond scrapes and bruises. But their escape route was cut off. They were essentially trapped in the growing inferno, and it looked like their luck had finally run out.

"Dean …"

"I know. We are so screwed."

"Maybe Dad'll find us," Sam coughed.

"Maybe," Dean coughed back.

Both watched as smoke drifted in under the door.

"We should try to plug up the bottom of the door, keep the smoke out as much as possible," Dean suggested. _For all the good that'll do_.

Sam responded only with increasing coughs.

The boys huddled into the corner under the countertop, waiting for the inevitable end.

At least they were together. Though Dean would wish for Sam to be anywhere but here right now, part of him was glad they were at least going out together. It seemed right, somehow.

"I'm gonna apply to college," Sam wheezed out.

"Oh yeah?" Dean wheezed back. "Wanna *cough* take your geekdom to a whole new *cough* level?"

"I do." *cough* "What do you think?"

"I *cough* think you can do anything, kiddo." Dean's eyes were burning, but he wasn't sure if the tears were from the smoke or from the fact that his little brother was telling him about impossible plans. He didn't believe for one second his father would ever let Sam go, but now wasn't the time to make such a point. Let the kid dream a little.

Dean felt Sam slump next to him. He wouldn't be conscious much longer himself, which was probably a blessing, since it was so hard to get a breath.

Just as he was about to give in to the darkness, Dean saw a beautiful woman appear before him. _Damn, heaven works pretty fast_, he thought.

He felt the woman take hold of his shirt and through bleary eyes saw her grab Sam's, then suddenly felt cold, clean air surrounding him. He dared to inhale, which led to a massive fit of coughing but as he continued to gasp, he found the hacking was diminishing. Blinking away, he looked up into the eyes of the still-present hallucination, who was telling him to relax and breathe slowly.

For a moment he did, until he remembered Sam. He struggled to sit up, but found he could only roll over. But the minute he saw Sam unconscious beside him, he got himself up and over to him.

"He's okay," the woman assured him. "He's just out. But he's breathing."

"Who *cough* are you?"

"Serenity."

"Angel?"

"Witch," Sera answered with a chuckle.

"Nah, *cough* too pretty."

"Flatterer."

Dean dropped down on his back again for a moment, then was suddenly back up.

"Dad!"

"Easy, easy," Sera soothed, trying to placate him. "I'm sure he's fine. Probably looking for you somewhere on the grounds."

"I gotta find him," Dean hacked as he fought to get up.

"Just lie back down. I'll find him."

And before Dean could stop her, she vanished again.

"Witch, my ass," he hacked as he lay back down, body unwilling to comply.

SNSNSN

John was having a hard time finding his way out. His best-laid plans never did seem to pan out. He could only hope that Dean and Sam had gotten out.

Working his way down another corridor, he could have sworn he heard someone calling his name. Stopping to listen, he waited.

Sure enough, he heard it again.

"John?"

It was still far off, but how far he couldn't tell. It came through only as an echo.

"John, you here?"

Closer. Clearer.

The voice sounded familiar.

"Winchester!"

_Bobby?_

Sure enough, John watched Bobby Singer emerge from the smoke filled corridor and run toward him.

"Bobby …"

"Bout time I found your ass. What the hell hit you?"

"Everything," John choked out. "The boys?"

"Been looking for them, but no luck yet. Let's get you outta here then I'll keep looking. Peter and Joshua are looking too."

"They're safe."

John and Bobby looked up to find Sera standing before them.

"What the …"

"It's okay, Bobby, she'd a friend," John said. "They're okay? Both of them?"

"A little worse for wear but alive and outside. Let's go."

Sera proceeded to lead them out of the burning compound and over to Dean and Sam, who were now both conscious and sitting up.

"Dad!" Dean yelled with a husky voice.

John hobbled over to his sons and embraced them both, receiving hearty hugs in return. He them pulled back to do the patented inventory of their injuries.

But Sam had other ideas. He struggled to his feet and started back toward the compound.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" John asked.

"There may still be others trapped inside. We gotta help them."

"Forget it Sam."

"But Dad, what about Clive and the others who helped you escape? A lot of them are innocent! We can't just leave them to burn!"

Sera couldn't believe this was a hunter saying these words. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind's eye.

"Clive is safe and so are a lot of the others," she told the men.

"But some may not be," Sam persisted.

"It's not worth risking going back in there Sam and you know it," John barked.

"But that part over there," Sam pointed. "That's not burning. There's still a chance!"

"No Sam! Let them go. That's an order!"

Sam couldn't believe how unyielding, how heartless his father was being. After the hell he'd gone through, after seeing the cruelty of what had been done to so many in the compound, then having been aided in escape by the supposed enemy. And now the man wasn't even willing to lift a finger to try and help. Sam was speechless. And angry.

Sera could sense the turmoil within the boy but said nothing. She could sense it had been a growing issue within the family and that it was likely coming to a head quickly. She just hoped they would survive it. Clearly this was a special family unit, one worth salvaging. She only hoped they would work to do so.

For now, the group sat on the hill and watch as the compound burned to the ground. Clive and some others found and joined them, but they didn't see any other creatures fleeing the scene. They guessed any that had gotten out were long gone.

Thet soon decided that it was best to be on their way as well. While the compound had been quite remote, the plume of fire was sure to have been spotted and it wouldn't be long before the authorities would arrive. All decided it would be best not to be around to try and explain what had existed here or the events that had taken place. Leave it up to others to put a story together.

John thanked Clive and the others and bid them goodbye, then trekked back to Bobby's truck and the Impala with dean, Sam and Sera following in silence behind. Sera would be on her way soon as well but decided to stay with the men for the night to tend to their injuries and make sure they were alright. She owed them that much. And now, thanks to them, there was all the time in the world.


	17. Epilogue

**A/N: Well folks, it's been a looooong time coming for this story's end and here it is. Hit a few blocks along the way with some lengthy gaps between updates and I apologize for that. Just wanted the story to run its fair course and come to a satisfying end, which I think it has. I hope you'll let me know so by reviewing. I LOVE reviews!! Thanks for sticking with me and this tale. Hope you'll drop by for further adventures. Blessed be!**

**Epilogue**

Sam didn't sleep much that night.

Bobby had secured them a couple of rooms at a nearby motel, not knowing what condition he would find the Winchesters in and if any of them would be up to a long drive.

Sera tended to and bandaged up the many scrapes, cuts and contusions the men had acquired, given them a hearty supply of antibiotics she managed to procure from a local pharmacy (a neat trick that John would love some schooling in) and sent them off to bed. John and Dean crashed immediately but she could still feel the torrent of emotions swirling within the youngest. Anger, guilt, frustration, sorrow. But one feeling came through the strongest – certainty. Not about what had happened or where his relationship with his family would go from here.

Certainty about where he would go from here.

She wasn't surprised to come out into the crisp pre-dawn morning to find him sitting on the far curb of the parking lot, looking at the ground but clearly seeing beyond it.

He didn't look up immediately when she sat down beside him and they both sat for a few moments in agreed silence.

"So when are you going to tell them?" she finally asked.

"What?" Sam asked, slightly confused.

Sera merely nodded toward the room.

"Tell them what?" Sam asked again, somewhat but not quite sure what she was referring to.

"That you're leaving."

"How did you …"

Sera tapped her temple. "Witch, remember?"

Sam smiled slightly, remembering the relay of Sera's story on the ride to the motel. He wasn't sure how Dean felt about her. After all, they had been thoroughly taught that witches were unconditionally evil. But after meeting Sera, how could John and Dean's opinions not have been swayed?

"I don't know that I am. Nothing's been decided yet."

"You sure about that?" she pushed, certain of the answer.

Sam sighed.

"Stanford's a great school."

"I haven't even applied yet."

"But you will. And I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Can you … I mean, can you see the future?" he asked, a bit of hope clear in his voice.

Sera merely looked ahead, her expression giving nothing away.

Sam looked toward the room.

"They'll never let me go."

"The longer you wait to tell them, the harder it's going to be."

Sam sighed again.

"It's your life, Sam. Yours, not theirs. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I have never encountered a family so strongly bonded together as yours is. You were all willing to die for each other in there. John, all he could think about was getting to you, making sure you were safe. And I could feel Dean's thoughts, how scared he was for you and your father. And I could feel yours. For your brother, your dad, and for the others. That surprised me the most."

"Because I'm a hunter?"

"Are you?"

Sam looked at her and she looked back.

"It's what I'm supposed to be. It's what's expected of me."

Sera nodded, again looking to the room. He light had come on and she knew that the others were up and probably wondering where Sam had gone.

"I should get back in there," Sam said, defeat shadowing the statement.

"I think they'll be okay without you for a while longer," Sera said.

Sam stayed sitting, looking at the room. He saw Dean peek out from the curtains, spot him, then retreat, no doubt telling John that he hadn't gone far.

Sam realized that, while she had no place to do so, Sera was giving him permission to leave, to follow his dream, live his own life. Maybe she felt she had to because she knew no one else would. Maybe she felt he needed to at least hear from someone that it was okay to follow a different path, even if you are a Winchester.

Or maybe she knew more than she was letting on. Maybe Stanford wasn't such a pipe dream. Maybe it really was to be a part of his future. Maybe it could happen for him.

But Sera was also right that the longer he waited to tell his family, the harder it would be.

Maybe he'd wait till there was something to tell.

Maybe they'd surprise him and send him off with their well-wishes and hearty support.

Guess only time would tell.


End file.
